


Voices in My Head (On Hiatus)

by PJGamerGirl



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, Drama, Family Drama, Gen, Inspired by Sanders Sides, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts, Other, Plot Twists, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23920258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PJGamerGirl/pseuds/PJGamerGirl
Summary: This is my first ever story here on AO3 and I'm really excited. I have a basic idea of some plot lines/story arcs, and I may end up doing funny little episodes of nonsense in between. We'll see how it all goes down.Anyways, the biggest parts to this is that this is my spin on the Sander Sides. These characters are my own sides, slightly altered to match myself and my personality. You may notice that conflicts are either extreme or relatively small, but I'm hoping I'll learn how to write a happy medium somewhere in between the two so you guys don't get whiplash.Feedback is also greatly appreciated. I'm trying to improve my writing!That's all for now!
Relationships: I have no clue yet.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This book is going to be based on Sander Sides. I might try to do some crossovers at some point, but what this whole thing is is basically my take on my own sides with their emotions and experiences. I'm going to take a lot of creative liberties and hopefully put some good and meaningful chapters into this load of who knows what?

It was a lovely day in the summer. The plants were awake and blooming with flowers and other small creatures while the sky hummed with that warm breeze that swept the branches of large trees throughout the oddly mismatched terrain of the new landscape. In odd places, grass mixed with unusually hot sand and the trees were replaced by dried brush and cacti.

In the middle of it all sat a sort of small, glowing being. It was made of what appeared to be outer space, their cheeks freckled with shining dots while their hair flowed freely upwards from the ground. It opened its eyes and began to peer around the natural scene. In the distance, the small creature could see the glinting flowing surface of water splashing over a cliffside, down into a large valley dappled with amazing fantastical creatures.

The little one had no words as it slowly got to their feet and hobbled forward to continue looking around. This place was so beautiful and so open. They peered downward into this gargantuan valley, their three eyes following the winding river further into the distance towards a large lake. They felt the lush green beneath them and brushed their hands through the blades of grass and the small patches of wildflowers.

Above were large islands, floating in the air, drifting slightly in the wind like stable kites on a windy day. Some were bogged down closer to the land which the little one stood, but others rose far, far above up into the clouds. Some had giant trees that loomed over their peaks while others were dusted with a generous layer of rocks and crystals.

Were they the only one here? There was so much out there, so much to explore in this beautiful and magnificent world! Their breath hitched when they saw the spires across the valley, golden and reaching towards the floating isles.

They decided to pause for just a moment, tearing their hypnotized gaze away from the landscape and peering down at their little hands. They were so small, so tiny, how did they come to exist in the first place? Peering over their hands, they could see billions and billions of stars and light beaming through the darkness, ideas, dreams, far out of reach for now, but not impossible. These stars grew up their arms and were clustered around their chest, filling the tiny being with warmth and belonging.

All they knew is that they belonged here, in this strange world. This strange, beautiful, and enchanting world. This was their home, this is what they were given to live on, and live on they shall. But as the little one’s curiosity grew, so did their craving for adventure.

What would they find beyond those peaks? Beyond the mountainous hills and the steeping valleys, the open plains and further still. Only time will be able to tell.


	2. Discoveries

_I wonder what else I can find out here?_ Mystia thought with excitement as she moved aside a boulder to find a large crystal, beating with energy and liveliness. It was touched blue in color, with fascinating little carvings etched into the translucent surface. Mystia ran her fingers gingerly over the smooth surface, tracing the carvings lines like archeologists looking back into history.

Mystia was quickly scared from her thoughts though as a loud laughter overtook the cavern. It was so free, so filled with life. For a long moment, Mystia couldn’t decipher where the sound had actually come from, but deducted that it could have only come from the crystal before her. The laughter echoed again, the noise overcoming Mystia would a feeling of intense love and warmth. Of course, she had felt these things before, but this was something new. How could she conjure something that she didn’t know the slightest idea about or understand.

The odd space being had found this crystal during her travels, having felt its presence years before she had actually come across it. She had been hunting for it all this time, hoping maybe she wouldn’t be alone in this large world. Although, Mystia didn’t know what years were either. All she knew was what the world told her, what she saw and what she heard on her travels across the valleys and the mountains, not to mention the unbearable desert where the sun would beat down on you nonstop. 

All of her travels aside, this was the first time Mystia had actually come across something relatively new. Yes, it was a crystal, but it carried an unfamiliar energy that Mystia couldn’t place, only imagine. The closest thing to living that she could feel or hear was the laughter and the soft pulse that emanated from its core. Mystia soon realized that was the sound she was hearing, the pulsing laughter of a life.

 _A little one within._ Mystia echoed through her thoughts, letting the train out of the station. Her will was the tracks and her limbs were the train moving and following it’s curves and commands. She rested her hand against the crystal, again hearing the splendid laughter that enveloped her heart in warmth. _It’s alright little one, come out._

Mystia waited for some sort of response, but received none. The laughter subsided and that warm pulse came to a heart wrenching stop. What had happened? Mystia tried again, this time speaking her words out loud. “Little one? Are you in there? I won’t hurt you.”

Again, she was greeted with silence, but then there was a new sound that pierced the peaceful quiet. A shrill scream that shattered the silence like a hammer to glass.

Mystia stumbled back, seeing the crystal warp and hiss as half of the calming blue turned a bright dungy yellow. Cracks appeared everywhere starting from the bottom and spiraling upwards towards the tip. Mystia watched on in horror as another scream filled the nook with agony and anguish until a blinding light overcame Mystia’s vision and she was left temporarily blinded in all three eyes.

Shards of broken crystal were strewn everywhere, the beating having dissipated. Finally, the small alcove came to a steady halt as noise ceased. Mystia slowly opened her eyes, fearful of what she may find. Had she utterly ruined something?

The room remained in that quiet peaceful state as Mystia was met with a surprising sight. Two little children were sprawled on opposite ends of each other in the alcove. One had dark brown, messy hair that fell into her eyes. The other small child was humanoid, but feral looking. Her hair was a blonde tint on top while the under layers were near black and covered with grease. Unlike Mystia, they were boths sporting some sort of cloth on their bodies.

The little girl with dark brown hair and a freckled face wore a great deal of pink and pastel blue, something that Mystia didn’t often see in this world, and the other wore shades of yellow and reds mixed with dirt and grit colors. The first child was stirring while the yellow and red little one remained unmoved.

 _Two children! What do I do?_ Mystia asked herself in a panic as she drew herself to her nubbish feet. Her fingers fidgeted as the crystals around them grew from her increased stress. As far as Mystia knew, it had only been herself in this world, her growth accelerated beyond typical standards, though her mental capacity was still somewhat limited. She wanted a friend, but she had hoped maybe something less immature? Whatever she had hoped, she had to set it aside and help these two right now.

Another little groan could be heard from the brunette and Mystia decided to approach her first, moving delicately over the shards of shattered crystal. She knelt down at her side and whispered quiet words of reassurance into the little one’s ear. “Hello, little one.” She spoke, trying to keep her volume minimal.

The brunette shakily raised her head, her collar covered with dirt and pebbles from her nasty fall. There were scrapes on her hands, but overall, there weren't any large injuries. She squeaked in unsurity, her big brown eyes scanning over Mystia with fascination. All of the stars speckling her skin and her bright glowing orbs brought the little girl some comfort as she stood beneath this older being. Mystia offered her a petite hand, wanting to help her to her feet if she could.

When the little brunette didn’t understand, she decided to pick her up instead. “Do you have a name?” Mystia wondered, staring at the brunette, also with fascination. She had never seen another lifeform like this. The other was more towards what she was used to with the strange animals that wandered the landscape just outside.

She squeaked in response, curling into Mystia’s chest. She let out a tiny giggle and then a squawk of laughter, very similar to the one that Mystia had heard before the crystal shattered into these two tiny creatures.

Mystia just sighed and shook her head before moving over to the other one. She was also small, but her bone structure was much less dense and certainly more scrappy looking. The red and yellow being still had had no movement, their breathing barely audible as Mystia scooped her up in her embrace also.

“You two will need names.” Mystia spoke softly, her three eyes darting between the two.

The brunette cooed again, followed by another bout of laughter, which gave Mystia a grand idea. She wasn’t sure why or how it fit, but it did.

“You will be Joyce.” Mystia declared, casting an invisible smile down at the brunette in her embrace. She then looked to the other, observing her pointed ears and messy hair. This one held a sort of definite frown, sharpened fangs pointing through her lips in a sort of snarl. The only thing remotely cute about her was her small button nose that twitched ever so slightly as the smells of a new world wafted to her senses. “And you will be,” Mystia paused again, “Aranza.”


	3. Logical Thinking

The small family continued to grow as the years continued to go by. Joyce and Aranza were now walking on their own without having Mystia carry them everywhere.

New and intriguing things had been popping up in the world lately, things like new creatures and trees and things that looked like trees, but weren’t really. Such an odd description, but it was the closest thing that Mystia could assign to them. They were like trees, but sometimes they’d have rock pelted into their trunks and the innards would be hollowed out to make space for soft and fluffy things to sit on or sleep. No one was ever inside these oddly shaped trees that would randomly pop up, which Mystia greatly appreciated. She wasn’t sure she could handle any more little children running around.

Joyce had only become more active since Mystia had found her in that crystal with Aranza all those years ago. Neither had grown much like Mystia had and Aranza had only become a tempermental little daredevil of a toddler. She was constantly getting into things she shouldn’t and usually wreaked havoc on their living space wherever they went.

Aranza was everything Joyce wasn’t. Joyce was kind, loving, always filled with happiness and excitement while Aranza was grumpy, destructive and overall very rude. She never said “Please,” Or “Thank you.” She would just sit up and spit right in your face with no warning whatsoever. Mystia had just about enough of Aranza’s antics and she’d always threaten to leave the tiny monster behind to fend for herself.

Although, after many, many, many instances of threatening, Aranza finally shot back with a threat of her own. “If you get rid of me, Joyce would hate you!” She spat with a squeaky tone. “You can’t just dump me off in the river!” Aranza would then proceed to stick out her tongue at Mystia and bolt the other direction. Being as scrappy as she was, she was ridiculously fast and always escaped the grasp of the space being, or if she was caught she’d wriggle and scream and kick until she was finally let free.

When Aranza wasn’t throwing a fit or making a rude remark, she was playing with Joyce. Mystia loved those rare moments when both Joyce and Aranza were asleep, because it meant that they weren’t bothering her. They’d always ask Mystia to play a game with them, a game where she was usually the butt of the joke or oftentimes the loser.

It all changed though when one strange hollowed tree popped up. It wasn’t like the others. There were no leaves atop it’s branches. In fact, there weren’t branches at all. This hollowed tree was replaced mostly by rocks and transparent panes of glass acted as effective windows to the outside without letting all the annoying bugs in. It had multiple levels with plenty of things scattered about that the pair of children could investigate and play with.

So far, there hadn’t been any accidents, but Mystia was still worried that something could happen. Something really bad. _What if someone lives here?_ She guessed. This place was much too nice not to be lived in.

Mystia’s theories were proved correct when a woman appeared from one of the rooms late in the evening of the second day of their stay.

She was tall and wearing clothes, as Mystia had come to call them, like Joyce and Aranza. A dark blue plaid shirt that was neatly tucked into her black pencil skirt, which showed the slight pear curvature of her body. She was very pretty as well, with a strong pointed jaw and deep blue eyes that shined with intelligence. This woman also wore a pair of glasses that she’d occasionally press up against the concave of her nose bridge. There were slight bags under her eyes, giving the impression that she most likely hasn’t slept for a few days. Her hair was done up with stray strands of hair pointing out in every direction.

Mystia’s breath hitched with anticipation as this newcomer descended the stairs. She stared down the others very condescendingly, although she didn’t seem entirely bothered by the two children playing wildly in the living area.

“Um, hello.” Mystia spoke warily, feeling intimidated by this stranger.

“Hello.” The woman replied coldly, her eyes glancing over to the two playing off to the side. “What are you doing in my house?” She asked with a sharp threatening tone on the tip of her tongue. She seemed to be holding back her tired temper, occasionally peering back to Joyce and Aranza.

“Ah, is that what this place is?” Mystia spoke with a nervous chuckle.

“Yes. A house or home is where one lives either by themselves or with a grouping of other people, often referred to as family or roommates.” The woman shot back without hesitation.

“Right, right!” Mystia nodded in agreement. This woman’s explanation did help explain that a bit. “Umm, we weren’t planning on staying forever. We were just trying to find someplace to stay for a bit and‒” The star spotted woman explained swiftly, her hands moving in quick circular motions as her hair billowed around her frame like some sort of goddess.

The other woman held up her hand, cutting Mystia off from finishing her statement. “It is alright.” She assured Mystia with a tired sigh as she adjusted her glasses. “I’ve been expecting others here in the mindscape for some time, anyways.”

“Mindscape?” Mystia echoed as her frantic hands finally came to rest at her sides.

The other nodded affirmatively. “Indeed, the mindscape.” She repeated. “My name is Aubry. What are your names?”

“Ah, um. I’m Mystia. Those two are Joyce and Aranza.” Mystia replied, pointing to each child respectively when she stated their names.

Joyce looked up, having heard her name spoken and wondering if she was needed for something. Aranza on the other hand was throwing a small fit which nobody seemed to be paying attention to.

Aubry nodded in understanding, her thoughts beginning to drift. If she was being truthful, she was grateful to see others here in the mindscape, it meant that their host wasn’t some sort of apathetic sociopath. Although, she took great note of the fact that Mystia seemed confused when she mentioned the word **Mindscape**. There’d be much explaining to do.

**\-------------------**

“So, we’re just a part of some person’s mind?” Mystia asked cautiously, eyeing the logical side with this unintended irritation. What Aubry had just explained felt like the sky was raining down molten rock from the heavens, aimed straight for Mystia like she had just murdered some poor soul.

“I’m afraid so.” Aubry nodded in confirmation. “We are representations of portions of this overall being’s personality. Sadly, I have not learned their name yet, nor have I found anyone else in this mindscape similar to myself. I heard you and the two little ones earlier when you first arrived, but I decided to keep my distance until I couldn’t contain myself. I needed to talk to you.”

Mystia felt her hands ball into fists, her glowing eyes narrowing with frustration. “So, we aren’t real?”

Aubry pushed her glasses back up again with a small tinge in her throat. “Well, it depends on what you consider real. We are real in her imagination, but we do not exist in that tactile world of our host’s reality.”

“That makes absolutely no sense!” Mystia huffed as she slouched forward on the couch, running her hands through her flowing locks.

“Not right now it doesn’t.” The logical side nodded in agreement, “But we are relatively young right now. “

“But, you look at least 20 years old.” Mystia pointed out with a knitted brown, her patience beginning to run thin.

“Mystia. I am our host’s logical side. I account for all things that have to do with intellectual thinking, learning, reasoning, as well as processing and taking charge of fundamental situations such as emergencies and all of that ‘jazz,’ as you would most likely say. My point is, I have been here since the very beginning. I am constantly being fed new information, which is my form of nutrition, allowing me to grow and understand things about this world and our host’s world that you, Joyce and Aranza may not be able to comprehend yet.”

Mystia absorbed this new information carefully, her eyes narrowing with careful thought and consideration. Aubry’s words held truth to them, but Mystia didn’t really like it. She couldn’t do anything about it but that wouldn’t stop her from living her dreams in this world, can it? “So, according to you, I’m Creativity?” She recalled, briefly pointing at the logical side who nodded once again.

“Indeed. You represent our hosts hopes and dreams. Out of any of us, you will most likely house the most variety of abilities compared to myself or the other two. We can all conjure things, as I’m sure you’ve already discovered, although for you it is probably as easy as lifting a finger. For myself, it could take me ten minutes to a couple of hours to produce anything even minutely complicated. As our host’s imagination, I would only see it as fitting that you will also have the ability to shapeshift in the near future.”

The creative side hesitated, her glowing eyes dulling with uncertainty. “How can you be so sure?” She asked with a small wobble in her voice.

“I am Logic.” She recited once again with a small smirk. “There are rare instances where I have ever been wrong. I learn from mistakes and inference and observation. Perhaps say I was wrong, will your life be any different than it is right now?”

Mystia averted her eyes as tears lightly touched her cheeks. Why was this all so stressful? “No. But it’s just scarry I guess.” She finally admitted.

“Ah, not very egotistical either.” Aubry observed. “Anyways, do you see my reasoning?”

“Yes.” The creative side spoke softly, her eyes glancing over to Joyce and Aranza. “But, if I’m Creativity, what are those two?”

The other shook her head and sighed softly. “It is too early to tell. All I know is that it is probably best to stick together for now. As our host gets older, so will we and by then we’ll probably be able to pin some idea onto those two.”

“So, another label?” Mystia frowned.

“Not technically, but indeed. We are visual representations tied to generalized aspects of a singular personality. For all we know, maybe one day we may even be able to talk to our host.” The logical side suggested, her lips upturning in another twinge of a smile. She wasn’t nearly as outspoken as Aranza was. Aubry showed so much maturity, it made Mystia feel belittled in a way. She thought that she was the most mature one here, but apparently she was wrong, just like she was about everything else.


	4. Selfish Ways

Another few years passed. Finally, Joyce and Aranza were finally getting older, maturing into teenagers at the least.

Their small house had grown into a large mansion, thanks to the help of Mystia and her Creative abilities. Things were flowing smoothly and effectively, with little to no complications.

The only thing that really changed for the worst was Aranza. She had always been spitfire, but lately, it was worse. So, so much worse. She had been fighting with Joyce a lot, usually about useless things. She would occasionally ask Mystia to conjure her something to play with, since she couldn’t exactly do it on her own. When Mystia would say no though, Aranza would become hysterical with rage and take it out on poor Joyce who was always perfectly content with her own vices.

Today was no different as it started with breakfast and Aranza asking for something.

“Hey, Mystia?” The young girl spoke, poking at her cereal as Joyce munched down on her pancakes.

“Yes?” Mystia asked with a raised eyebrow. Just like Aubry had said much earlier in their existence, she would most likely obtain a shape shifting ability more acute than the others. She could change her appearance with a single thought. Most days, she wanted to blend in with the others unless she was in an aspiring and artistic mood. Today, she was wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt with a pineapple on it while her dirty blonde hair was tucked back into a bun.

“Can I have a toy car?” Aranza asked, again poking her cereal with her spoon before turning her yellow eyes up towards Mystia.

Mystia frowned. “Don’t you already have one?” She asked. “I’m sure you don’t need another.” She could already feel the future fit coming to fruition before her eyes as Aranza’s iries became blood red.

“But, Joyce has so much stuff! It’s only fair that you give me what I want!”

“Joyce is always thankful for her gifts and never asks for anything more.” Aubry interrupted as she sat with her companions at the table, a cup of chocolate milk in one hand. She set it in front of Joyce since Aranza had already finished her cup not too long ago.

“Ugh! You’re not listening! You never listen!” Aranza screamed, causing Joyce to flinch away with her half finished plate of pancakes.

Aubry took a sip from her water bottle not too far away before letting a deep sigh escape her mouth. “Aranza. We have been over this countless times. You cannot have whatever you want whenever you want it. Life does not work that way.”

The little devil side stuck a finger towards Mystia, her fanged teeth bared. “Oh, really! Well  _ she _ can do whatever she wants and you never stop her! Joyce gets whatever she wants and you never said  _ ***t _ !”

Mystia gasped, slapping the girl’s hand away from her face. “Excuse me!? First of all, you cannot just go around yelling at whoever you’d like. Second of all, we don’t swear! How many times do we have to say this?!”

The argument continued to get more heated as firm talking morphed into yelling until it was screeching level.

Joyce plugged her ears as she just wanted to eat her pancakes in peace, without screaming and angry shouts from everyone around her. It hurt her to see her only family yelling at one another and seeming to go from each other's throats like wild wolves. That thought terrified Joyce. What if they did end up attacking one another? What would that do to the host? What would that do to their family dynamic? (If they even had one.)

It became too much as tears started to prick Joyce’s eyes and her breath hitched. The fork shook violently in her hand as Aubry quickly took notice. The situation had gotten out of hand and needed to be dealt with quickly or else risk the health of everyone in the mindscape.

“Enough you two!” Aubry intervened, her eyebrows furrowing in rage.

They both stopped and stared at her in surprise. The redness receded from Aranza’s eyes and Mystia’s third eye closed immediately. “Enough yelling. I have had it. You are stressing out Joyce and your arguing is not healthy for anyone in the mindscape, do you understand me?” She snapped firmly, slamming her water bottle down on the table. The logical side stood to her full height with the added surplus of the three-inch wedges, staring down the others with a glare so intense Mystia and Aranza thought that it could melt through any sheet of metal.

They glanced at each other and Mystia reluctantly backed down from the argument. She spared a glance towards Joyce, only to find that she was no longer at her seat. She had completely abandoned her stack of pancakes, allowing them to run cold and the syrup to overcome the cakey goodness.

A pang of guilt hit them both when they realized that their arguing had scared poor Joyce away.

“Dang it.” Mystia whispered, pressing her forehead into the palm of her hand. They had been so idiotic, so careless. Well, Aranza more specifically. She hadn’t stopped to think of what the impact of yelling back would entail. She was just grateful that Aubry had been there to stop it before it really got out of hand.

“Are you both done?” Aubry interjected their thoughts, her eyes still slitted with that scary intensity that could kill a man. The logical side’s gaze then snapped to Aranza who didn’t show her guilt as openly as the creative side did. “Aranza. I would like to speak to you, alone.” She said with poison interlacing her words. It made Aranza’s skin crawl as her face went pale. The younger side shakily nodded and got up from her seat, following Aubry out of the kitchen.

In the meantime, Mystia went off to find Joyce who had fled the scene. She left the pancakes where they sat, moving towards the stairwell. With each step, Mystia tried to think of a valid apology, trying to find that confidence within her that had been so sparse lately.

She reached the landing and moved towards the west wing towards Joyce’s room. That’s usually where she hid in tough situations, avoiding social interactions with the other sides if possible which always had them worried for her.

The creative side stopped at a particular sky blue door. It was decorated with clouds and a lush field in the foreground, dotted with flowers of all kinds and colors. Mystia remembered when she had painted it to Joyce’s request. There were stickers of birds and animals across the painted landscape, only adding to the innocence of the child-like theme.

Mystia closed her eyes in thought, her hand tracing the clouds across the door, pausing close to the golden flowering sun.  _ I’m sorry. No, that’s not enough for Joyce. I’m more than sorry, but how am I supposed to say that? _ She thought for a few more minutes before tentatively knockin on the door.

“Joyce?” Mystia called, hoping that the younger side would hear through the barrier between them. “May I come in? It’s me, Mystia.” She explained, waiting for any kind of reply.

Again, nothing. The silence reminded Mystia when she found that crystal all those years ago, well, what felt like years ago. According to Aubry, it actually hadn’t been that long.

“Please.” Mystia spoke again, hoping for any kind of answer. “Me and Aranza didn’t mean to upset you. I should’ve just talked to her later instead of making a big deal about it at the breakfast table. Can I please come in?”

She had to be in there. Mystia was sure of it. Joyce wouldn’t care to be anywhere else except for the park, but she never liked being alone at the park.

Three more minutes of waiting and Mystia was becoming more and more worried. She knocked again, but was finally met by a muffled. “Go away!”

“Sweetie‒”

“Go away!” Joyce repeated as she threw a pillow towards the locked door. It bounced off harmlessly onto the ground before coming to a rest next to the window. Joyce stared at it from the comfort of her bed as Mystia continued knocking on the door. Why couldn’t she just leave it all alone? Why couldn’t Mystia just let her play with her toys in peace? Why couldn’t Mystia and Aranza argue somewhere else in the mindscape where Joyce couldn’t hear and be imprinted on?

Joyce often asked herself these questions.  _ Why me? _ She didn’t like it, because it made her feel selfish. She suspected that it was from Aranza’s influence and her behaviors. They were basically sisters after all, even though they didn’t seem like it but they were only related because of that story that Mystia retold a long time ago.

It was basically herself and Aranza being birthed from that crystal, fully clothed and a few months ahead in development. It was like they had been gestating past their initial gestation period, which sounded gross, but that was the analogy that Aubry provided.

Some days, Joyce didn’t really want to be Aranza’s sister. When they were younger, things weren’t so bad, but as they grew Aranza had become meaner and meaner. To a point where when Joyce so much as spoke, it was like there was a dagger against her throat every time she took in a breath of air. She wanted it to stop, but there was no way of achieving that without getting rid of Aranza.

“She hates me.” Joyce finally admitted the fact that Aranza did not like her. “We are opposites, and she hates me for it.” She realized, her eyes shifting towards the window. The mindscape was lovely today, but Joyce noticed the slight wilt in the flowers next to the pond, the uneasy energy that held in the air. Everyone was tense.

Joyce soon noticed that Mystia had stopped trying to get her to come out. She heard no yelling and instead only heard the quiet tussle of the warm breeze outside that shook the trees which also caused the mansion to settle further into its foundation. The young side rose from her bed, moving towards her closet to grab her shoes. She pulled on a ridiculously tacky t-shirt and a pair of jeans before tugging on a pair of tennis shoes over her socks. She looked in the mirror, pulling her hair up into two pigtails before forcing a smile across her lips.

_ I’m going to go for a walk!  _ Joyce decided, moving towards the door. She slowly cranked the knob and peeked out into the hallway, seeing no signs of her sister or her older companions. Joyce made her way towards the staircase while reaching for the banister with one hand. A phone sat in the other which she planned to slip into her back pocket once all her notifications had been turned off.

The young side finally reached the bottom and made it to the door. She was swift in her retreat while muting her phone with a few pushes of a button.

Within minutes, Joyce was following a path through the trees of the nearby forest of the mindscape. In the distance, she could see the floating isles. Some of them were projects that Mystia was working on, others islands were just part of the original mindscape with random biomes that introduced a bit of unorthodox traits to the area. Joyce was sure that Mystia put those there on purpose to get on Aubry’s nerves. If they could all agree on anything, it was the fact that seeing Aubry mildly irritated was hilarious. The logical side did not think so, but she doesn’t have control over that kind of thing anyways, so why bother?

**\-------------------**

Elsewhere, Aubry was livid with Aranza.

“Do you have any idea what your actions did to Joyce?”

“Oh, so you’re worried about her more than me now. I get it.” Aranza shot back as she folded her arms over her chest. She was sitting in the living room on the couch, her yellow eyes narrowed with irritation and impatience. The logical side had been yelling at her for nearly an hour now, but all she was doing was repeating the same thing over and over again.

“No, you don’t get it!” Aubry snarled, her hand grabbing Aranza’s shoulder with an iron grip. “I don’t think you ever will either. Perhaps it is just in your nature, but your actions truly infuriate me, and I have had enough of your childish antics.”

Aranza turned her gaze back to the seething Aubry, her heart pounding in her chest with growing terror.  _ ***k. She’s serious this time. . .  _ She thought as her fingers started to twitch.

“Aub. Please. I’m sorry!” Aranza begged, her eyes widening with fear. “I won’t do it again, I promise!”

Aubry’s grip became tighter as a snarl grew across her lips. “You have already said that. . . Many times. I have lost the ability to believe you will keep your words for the sake of your own selfish will.”

Her words shot through Aranza’s skull like a bullet through a cm thick pane of glass. Selfish? Aranza never saw herself as selfish, but then again, Mystia had never seen herself as Creativity either. “S-so. . . What you’re saying is that I’m the embodiment of Selfishness?”

“At this point, yes.” Her grip finally loosened but it immediately clasped tight again. “You are selfish and greedy, a horrible influence on your sister and you are constantly butting heads with Creativity. It is only fitting that you embody such a horrible thing after all the horrible things you have said during your time here with us.”

Aranza fought back tears as Aubry’s words spilled out, flooding her mind with all these horrible images of what she and the others saw herself as. “Aubry, please. You don’t mean it‒”

“Enough, Aranza! I mean every single word, if I didn’t would I be here speaking with you?”

She was met with silence.

“Well, would I?!”

“No. . .” Aranza choked out as she felt tears run down her cheeks.

The logical side finally released her grip and took a step back from the couch. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, grumbling beneath her breath. “I think it would be wise if you left the mansion.” She spoke softly.

Aranza stared at Aubry with bewilderment, her gaze broken and her heart torn into two. “You’re- you’re kidding. Right?” She questioned, her voice small and fragile.

“Am I one to play with emotions?” Aubry shot back sharply, her teeth bared in the same manner that Aranza had hers.

Aranza suddenly jumped to her feet, her body alive with burning rage. “All of this over one stupid little argument!? You have got to be joking! No? Well ***k you then! Who needs any of you when I have the whole mindscape to explore! Maybe I’ll find someone who actually appreciates me for being me instead of discarding me like a piece of f***ing bull***t!”

Aubry jumped to attention as well, her wedges planted firmly into the hardwood flooring as her eyes became shrouded in the shadow of her sharp features. “Leave. Now.”

“I’ll leave whenever the h*** I want to!” 

Mystia soon came into the room, her third eye open and aglow with dangerous power. She had heard the yelling and decided to back up Aubry on this matter. If Aranza couldn’t obey their rules, then she’d be rejected from the game whether she liked it or not.

Aranza stood there, her red eyes burning with newfound hatred for the people she used to call her family. The people who supposedly loved her that were now surrounding her with a gun aimed straight at her head. She was the victim here, and they just didn’t see that. They didn’t care. They never did.

This rage continued to fester as the quiet stalemate marched onward. It grew and grew inside of Aranza in a matter of seconds until she was a spitting cloud of pure hatred, lunging for the closest exit which was the window.

It shattered, allowing Aranza to tumble towards the ground. She landed with a thud but was soon back on her feet running the opposite direction of the mansion. She didn’t want to see the others as long as she lived, at least not while they were still smiling with their happy and perfect little lives. Tsk, they didn’t deserve it when they treated Aranza so poorly.

One day, they’ll see the consequences of their actions.


	5. I'm Going to Have a Freaking Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are rising and emotions are higher than ever before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but I can't really do anything about it. Also, for anyone who is interested, the time in the host's life is currently nearing the end of Elementary school for perspective.

More years passed, and everything seemed peaceful for the most part. Nothing was out of place as far as Mystia could tell and the mindscape was free of chaos.

“It’s just, so quiet.” Mystia commented as she sat on the couch, staring out the window. “Why?”

“What do you mean by it’s quiet?” Aubry asked, glancing up from her book. She was wearing the usual pencil skirt and plaid top, her hair done up like a professional business woman. For once, her heels were off and tucked away on the shoe rack in the mudroom. Showing off a pair of black stockings that acted as her socks.

She looked to be seated comfortably on the couch across from Mystia, but she was always alert, even when the logical side was supposed to be relaxing.

“Well, I mean. Look outside. There’s practically nothing wrong, right? But, then why do I feel like something could be crashing down any moment?”

Aubry sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose and placing her finger as her bookmark between pages 130 and 131 of  _ What is Mathematics _ . “Mystia, I believe that you are experiencing a case of what is known as Cherophobia. Although it isn’t documented within DSM-5, many people suffer from it in chronic or quick and temporary periods.”

“Um, ok? Mind explaining that a little more?” Mystia frowned, her third eye narrowing with slight irritation.

The logical side was indeed very logical, but she often felt the need to explain everything except the thing that someone would need to know. For example, you could ask her for directions and she’d show you all possible routes and the history of the roadway, but she’ll never outright tell you which turn you would need to make on the next four-way stop. It could be quite infuriating.

“Why of course!” Aubry said, almost sounding offended as she adjusted her glasses. Like she wouldn’t just stop her teachings there. No, no, no. That just simply isn’t how it works in Aubry’s mind. You either get nothing, or you will get everything. No in between.

After about twenty minutes of filler information about the Greek and Latin roots, mixed with some honorable mentions of other phobias later, Aubry was finally reaching the heart of her lecture. “According to ScienceAlert.com, and I quote, “ Someone who has cherophobia probably isn't sad all the time, they simply avoid events and activities that could bring them happiness. Some symptoms of the disorder, according to Healthline, are: Anxiety when you're invited to a social gathering; Passing on opportunities that could lead to positive life changes due to the fear something bad will happen; Refusing to participate in "fun" activities; Thinking being happy will mean something bad will happen; Thinking happiness makes you a bad or worse person; Believing that showing happiness is bad for you or your friends or family; Thinking that trying to be happy is a waste of time and effort.”” Aubry recited perfectly, all the words falling out of her mouth and rolling beautifully off the tip of her tongue.

Mystia stared at her for a long time, the seconds ticking by awkwardly until she slowly opened her mouth. “How do you even remember all that?” She questioned, her eyebrows knitted in minor concern as her form was hunched over from her previous frustrations.

“I memorized it. How else would I remember something so important when I needed it most?” Aubry shot back very bluntly, her piercing dark blue gaze burning into Mystia with a slight downturn of her lips.

“Well, um. . . You know, nevermind.” Mystia shook her head, her hair dancing around her star-touched form. “It’s just, usually people don’t spend their time trying to memorize information like that word for word. Isn’t that a waste of time and energy?”

Aubry huffed again, turning her nose up into the air. “Of course not! Knowledge is power! Yes, I may not be perfect and I can be wrong from time to time, but that does not mean that I cannot learn new things.”

The creative side put her hands up in a surrender motion, twisting her back to face Aubry more clearly. “Sorry, sorry! I won’t question it again.”

A sigh escaped Aubry’s lips and she just shook her head. “It’s alright, Creativity. I suppose I may also be a little paranoid for no particular reason, thus making myself more irritable than normal. I will see what I can do to mend that.”

Mystia slowly nodded, scooting closer to the window with her hands under her thighs for warmth. It wasn’t exactly cold, but the weight of her own body brought that sort of reassuring comfort that she never had from the loving embrace of a parental unit or guardian. The pulse of her nova looking core thrumming through her veins which also danced wildly through her fingers caused a tingly sensation through Mystia’s wrists. It made her feel more alive and not just some sort of being living inside someone else’s head at times.

“Have you talked with the host?” Mystia found herself asking, her golden iries glancing back over to Aubry who was still sorting out her misgivings.

“Hm? Oh, no. I have not. I believe she may be aware of us, but has not given us an opportunity to reveal ourselves to her. It’s quite complicated living inside a mindscape and not the real world, although I can only assume that it is much more difficult than the life that we endure every day.” Book in hand, Aubry absentmindedly flipped through the pages, careful not to lose her place.

“How can you be so sure?” Mystia whispered, unsurity creeping into her query. “I get it that you’re the only one that has seen a glimpse of it, but just a quick peek doesn’t really give anyone any details.”

“On the contrary,” Aubry interjected. “A simple look through a window can allow someone to gauge the overall workings of an environment if said window is big enough. For example, when looking at a painting, the landscape can vary drastically. Depending where the painting is set, there is usually a sky and a foreground with some sore of greenery.

The trees could be pines, meaning that the environment of the painting is somewhere higher in elevation, or if the trees are palm trees, then perhaps the painting is set closer to the equator or someplace with warmer weather. There could be water, which means that the painting could be somewhere by a lake or a large body of water, or perhaps even just a simple pond, which could indicate a marshland.”

Mystia pulled one of her hands free and slowly massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers, hearing the logical side continue on and on about the meaning of some sort of painting, or something like that. “I get it, I get it. Aubry, what I’m talking about is. . . “ The creative side trailed off, her thoughts and meaning of the word she wanted to use leaving her mind. “Oh, what was it?”

“Economy?”

“Yes! That!” Mystia nodded, pointing a finger to Aubry to emphasise her point.

“I cannot calculate that.” Aubry sighed, shaking her head sadly. “I thought you meant the environment. Here, you are practically the goddess over all manifestations, even the very ground we walk on. In the real world, reality doesn’t care about your special abilities or your wishes and dreams. If you want something, you must work for it and earn it, or obtain it through other, less ethical means.”

“I’m a goddess here?” Mystia echoed, her hand tapping her chin in thought as Joyce popped in.

“Did I hear  **ethics** !?” The younger side squeaked, bounding over to the pair on the couch. She plopped herself down between them, her big circular glasses slipping down her freckled button nose. Joyce’s big brown eyes had only become richer in color, their tones reminding Mystia of hot chocolate or a candy bar powdered with gold dust. She was wearing her usual tennis shoes, leggings and dress top with a polo collar. Joyce’s straight dark chestnut locks were partially pulled up into two pig-tails and her bangs were kept clean and sharp, stopping just before her eyes with a small bob at the top.

Aubry sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Hello, Joyce. Do you need something?”

“Nope! But it sounds like you two need me, since we’re talking ethics and all.” Joyce shrugged with a giggle, her childish and silly nature shining through like a beam of warming light.

“Ah, well it seems you have been mistaken, Joyce.” Aubry grumbled. “Mystia and I were simply talking about environmental issues and whatnot.”

“Awww.” Joyce whined as she threw herself backwards against the cushioned angle of the couch. “I was hoping it was something fun! Maybe we could go play a game or something? Oh, like maybe-”

“Sitting and being quiet?” Aubry cut in, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses. Her book was now sitting at her side, a proper bookmark tucked between the respective pages that her fingers had been separating.

Mystia frowned at Aubry’s comment sitting up straight and turning slightly to meet Joyce’s disappointed gaze. “You don’t have to be so harsh.” She grumbled, resting a hand on Joyce’s to comfort her.

“All I ask is for some peace and quiet.” The logical side groaned, her hand now clutching the spine of her book.

“If you want quiet, you aren’t going to get it down here. If you want quiet, you go up to your room and then never come back out again.” Mystia rolled her eyes.

Aubry gasped, her lips shifting into a small snarl. “This was originally my home, don’t you remember?” She snapped, pointing a finger at Mystia and Joyce. “If anything, you two should be going to your rooms.”

“What? That’s not fair!” Joyce jumped back to her feet, spinning on her heel to face an irritated Aubry who was gradually growing more and more angry and losing more patience.

“Nothing is fair, Morality!” Logic spat, also getting to her feet while poking Joyce in the sternum. “How many times must I tell you this until you get it through that thick skull of yours!”

Creativity watched, her eyes growing large with concern as she slowly hefted herself back onto the balls of her feet. “Hey, guys? We should probably start calming dow-”

Aubry sent Mystia a furious growl. “Calm down?  **Calm down** ? You are asking me to calm down when you were the one that chose to start asking questions!” She pointed a finger to Mystia accusingly.

The creative side began to get defensive, her hackles rising. “What? No! You could’ve just chosen not to answer them, ya know?! I was just sitting here minding my own business when you decided to cut in and try to explain it all to me, even though I clearly didn’t understand a single word you said!”

“Well, then who’s fault is that then?” Aubry folded her arms over her chest as the argument continued to escalate further.

“Oh please-!”

**\-------------------**

Aranaza stood up on the hillside, her fingers delicately shifting the lenses in front of her back and forth. “Wow, all you have to do is just stand here and they’re at each other's throats!” She squealed with excitement, daring a glance towards her newly discovered ally and companion.

The woman that stood next to Aranza was dressed in all black attire, the voidness in her eyes shifting back and forth like sinkholes that anyone could easily fall into. Her dress fell gracefully over her hips and the general curve of her body before dissipating into shadow and mist at her feet. Her hair was black and greasy but tidy and free of any bad snarling. A hood hid her pointed ears and above that floated a black crown of crystal and black silver. Moaning voices filled with agony and tears could be heard emanating from these crystals, making Aranza’s hairs stand on end.

“Hey, you listening?” Aranza asked, lowering the binoculars from her eyes and quickly snapping in front of the woman’s face. It did the trick and snapped her from her dark thoughts.

“Yes.” She nodded slowly, her hands coming to rest at her sides. “I do not need you snapping in front of my face though, or next time I will surely bite your fingers off. Do you understand?”

“Ah, yes ma’am.” Aranaza nodded with a nervous chuckle. “Well, anyways, as I was saying. You don’t even have to really be there to have them attacking each other. It’s really entertaining.” She pointed out, offering the binoculars to the woman shrouded in darkness.

She just shook her head and rejected Aranza’s offer. She took a step forward, further studying the mansion that the three sides lived in. It was rather large despite the fact that there were only three living there and no more. It had her mind brimming with anxiety inducing possibilities. “The mansion is certainly large. It’d be a shame if something were to happen to it.” She cooed with an evil grin spreading across her paled lips.

Aranza’s breath hitched as the atmosphere suddenly became heavier, but she was able to brush it off for now. “Uh, yeah. You ain’t going to destroy the place, right?”

“No. I’d rather take it for myself, but I know that won’t work without the help of my sister, who is currently taking her sweet time getting here.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Aranza muttered with another small nod of her head. She lightly scratched at her ears, a nervous habit. She could only assume that Anxiety’s presence was influencing it. “So uh, about your sister.”

“Yes, what of her?” Anxiety asked, sending a glare of warning in Aranza’s direction.

“I uh, was just wondering. What is she again? It doesn’t sound like she’s really up for any of this. . .”

Anxiety rolled her void eyes and shoved Aranza aside. “Well, she doesn’t have a choice in the matter.” Her hands moved up towards the floating crown above her head, the moment her fingers touching the silver metal screams escaped in shrill waves. Aranza had to cover her ears as Anxiety pulled the crown from it’s position and tugged it down into her grasp. The lady poked and prodded at the crystals, etching something into one of the smaller crystals. When she was finished, she turned around and presented the crown to Aranza for her to look at.

Aranza shakily lowered her gaze, her hands still clasped over her ears as the screams of anguish continued to ring and pound on her eardrums. Carved into the small crystal was the face of a cat, very simplified with the basic ears, eyes and nose. Although, just looking at it made Aranza’s skin crawl with fear.

“What the h*** is that for?” She asked carefully as Anxiety returned the crown to its rightful place hovering just over her head.

“My sister’s signet.” Anxiety nodded. “Indeed she doesn’t like to participate in every day affairs, but her presence will be powerful enough to strip the host of all the things that she used to enjoy.”

“Wait, you’ve met the host?”

“Number of times.” Anxiety spat. “She’s disgusting to say the least. I expect more of a fight whenever I see her, but I am met with the same babbling mess I step foot into the room, crying and begging for mercy. The only mercy she’ll receive is when she is dead.”

“Uh, ain’t that a bit extreme?” Aranza spoke up, her voice becoming much smaller than before. Before she was kicked out of the mansion, she often overheard Aubry trying to contact the host, but her efforts had always proved in vain. The logical side would go on and on about how important it was for the host to stay alive, because that meant that they too stayed alive. Aranza liked being able to breathe, thank you very large.

Anxiety flashed the honey badger a sharp glare, her lips parting to reveal fanged teeth. “It is not extreme in the slightest.” She snapped, causing Aranza to flinch away. “I’m simply doing what I was meant to do.”

“Drive everyone to insanity?” Aranza mumbled under her breath, earning her another death glare from Anxiety.

“Do I need to remind you of what you represent?” She snapped. “You always seem very disconnected whenever I mention it, considering that it was the very thing that got you kicked out of that mansion to begin with.”

Aranza’s head snapped upwards, her stature shrinking as old memories resurfaced. The cruel words that had been spoken that day forever burned into Aranza’s mind. It might as well be burned into her skin too as she readjusted her spiked collar, the air suddenly becoming more difficult to breathe. She felt the stress building in the pit of her stomach as Anxiety’s glare continued to beat down on Aranza with unstoppable force. It made Aranza want to vomit.

“I’m sure the memory’s painful for you, but really. . .” Anxiety sneered, her hand suddenly grabbing Aranza by the back of the neck. The side’s nails dug deep into her skin, drawing crimson drops that stained the tips of Anxiety’s fingers. “Selfishness can’t be all bad. It has some special uses here and there.” She spoke while dragging Aranza away, her mouth agape in pain as she kicked at the ground.

“It’s especially good at keeping nosy little patrons out of your own sh**. Being selfish really allows someone to get ingenuitive with their methods of procedures and whatnot, all for the sake of keeping someone away from their true intentions. I guess it could also account for lying and taking control of Morality and Creativity when saw fit. You’re more powerful than you realize Aranza, you’re just terrible at your job.” Anxiety hissed with a raspy laugh as they retreated further down the hillside and away from the mansion.

Aranza watched as the mansion drifted away. For some reason, she felt her heart lurch, missing her sister and the others dearly all of a sudden. She wished they could come and rescue her from this situation she had gotten herself into. She had made a deal with Anxiety, so far one of the worst beings here in the mindscape, and the other three didn’t even know about her. They didn’t know Anxiety existed, what she could do and what she was planning to do.

Aranza only had once choice, and that was to follow Anxiety’s lead or risk ruining everything else in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't perfect, but I'm trying to spread stuff out more so I don't feel like I'm trying to get at least 8 pages every time I write something. This chapter did, however, represent the chaos in my mind during this time of my life, so yeah...


	6. Guys, I Had a Panic Attack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing can ever be said for sure, and you can't account for every single thing that will happen. The best you can do is roll with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning!: This chapter has a lot of Anxiety and Depressive thoughts. If either of these things trigger you, I suggest skipping this chapter.  
> Also, these aren't usually proof-read until later so excuse grammatical or spelling errors, or just stuff that doesn't make sense and it's a longish chapter.

Olive stared off into her daydream mode, barely focused on the work in front of her. All around her, kids were laughing, glue sticks were being thrown, and hefty threats involving scissors could be heard. The day had already started off pretty hard with a migraine followed by skipping breakfast and diving headfirst into a full classroom of 11 and 12 year olds who were all screaming. Not to mention, her ear was aching horribly from her recent ear infection. Olive just wanted to go home, where there was no chaos, where she could just sleep.

It wasn’t long until she was snatched from her daydreaming though as the teacher came over. Mrs. Nolan. She was a kind lady, but in truth, she had little to no control over her classroom. You’d think that she’d have some experience dealing with these things since she was the head of student council at their public elementary school, but alas. A tap on Olive’s desk startled the young girl and she nearly fell backward into the bookshelf behind her at the back of the classroom.

“Oh! Are you alright? I didn’t mean to scare you, Olive” Mrs. Nolan spoke in a gentle tone. “I just came by to simply check up on you.”

Olive recomposed herself, dusting the pencil shavings and stray eraser bits from her favorite jacket. “It’s okay.” She mumbled while reaching for her pencil to resume the only subject she was good at: math. English was a struggle, like walking through a pool of jello or even molasses even though she was well above her peers in fluency ever since the 1st grade when her mother made her stay afterwards to read with her teacher. That group was the worst.

In Olive’s opinion, all the years she had been here at BluffDale Elementary school were the worst. Everyday was a living hell, just consisting of the routine of: do your work, survive prep periods, try not to have a melt down at lunch/recess, eat, and then finally go home.

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Nolan interjected Olive’s busied thoughts. Concern reflected in her sky blue eyes, her curly hair framing her long face nicely. The woman’s cheeks and nose were spotted with freckles and a pair of glasses sat at the end of her sharp nose.

Olive shrunk under her more intense gaze as the smell of the teacher’s breath caught her off guard. She didn’t deny the fact that the woman in front of her was very sweet, but she didn’t seem to understand personal space.

“Yes-yes.” The young girl stuttered out, her breath coming in short and quiet gasps. “I-m-I’m sure.”

Mrs. Nolan didn’t appear convinced, but for now, she left the subject alone and retreated back to her desk. When Olive was sure that her instructor had migrated to the other end of the classroom, she let out a deep and relieved sigh as another cry echoed through the room.

_ Only one more hour until I can go home. I don’t want mom asking me questions. . .  _ She turned her head towards the big windows to her left, just above the row of computers that were kept in the classroom for freetime and basic teaching purposes. Trees swayed gently in the summer breeze and the smell of those stinky blossoms wafted through the protective screen barrier between Olive and the outside world. Despite the smell, Olive just imagined being home under her blankets with her pillows and comfort of her sketchbook at her bedside.

Eventually, Olive was able to finish her worksheet but she still had half an hour to spare until the school would be released to grab their belongings from their poorly secured lockers. There wasn’t anything super valuable in her backpack though, so she didn’t exactly worry about it, well not as much as she could’ve been. The remainder of the half hour was spent doodling on the scratch pad of paper just under the surface of her desk. Olive hated it when others would suddenly pop up over her shoulder, asking her to show them what she had drawn or asking her to draw them next. Sometimes it would be a compliment though and those usually raised Olive’s self-esteem.

The traditional wooden pencil glided cleanly over the smooth fiber-like surface, but because of Olive’s heavy hand, she smudged a lot of the sketch in the process. “Crap.” A hiss escaped her lips as she flipped the pencil to its opposite ray to use the eraser end. But, there are sometimes those pencils with those weird, stiff erasers that don’t erase anything and only make the mistake even worse. That was one of those erasers, and the picture that she had been sketching was one that she really liked.

It was just barely enough to push her over the edge as tears stung against Olive’s eyes, trying to keep her sniffles contained just long enough until she could get to the car where she could rant about the day to her mother. She just wanted to go home and ignore the rest of the world, shut it out and never show her face again.

The school bell let out a shrill ring and children were rushing for the door exits. Olive was pushed and shoved in the process, making her drop her things multiple times and even cause her to lose her only pencil on her person.

_ I hate this, and I hate myself.  _ Using the sleeves of her jacket to hide the tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, she also used it as her tissue.  _ I just want to go home! _

After several hours of torture, Olive pulled open the car door with a strong tug and a soft “oof.” She flopped down in the front seat and once the door was closed, before her mother even had a chance to ask her what was wrong, she bursted into tears.

Gross sobs filled the car as the pickup pool line slowly crept forward in the parking lot.

“Sweetie? What happened?” The woman asked next to her. 

Olive turned towards the lady, her image blurred through the tears. Normally, she was a bit plump, with some added curve, a pair of capris paired with a pastel or jem colored shirt and her hair was done up to its perfection. Perfection included looking like a hedgehog and using half a can of hairspray each morning, but that was well besides the point.

When Olive was asked again, the tears came faster and more intense to a point where it felt like she couldn’t get a good breath of air. This only made her freak out more, then it all came down on top of her, letting the words spill out like the flood from her eyes as her messy hair stuck to her reddened cheeks.

“They’re just-just all so-so-so stupid!” She cried, her hands clenched into fists as they pulled out from the parking lot. I-I-I just want to stay-stay home! Please!” A croaking noise escaped her throat which was supposed to sound more like a whine, but the constant jerking of her throat muscles sent the poor girl into a coughing fit.

Her mother was left speechless as she continued to scream and shout and rant about how stupid her school was, how stupid all the kids were there, how people just couldn’t leave her alone, or even people being unable to be non-jerkish for once.

The woman let out a soft sigh, her own memories leading back to her elementary years. Although, it had never been this bad.  _ She’ll grow out of it.  _ “I know, I know.” Her mother finally spoke in quiet cooes, barely being heard over Olive’s sobbing fit. “Just let it out, get those feelings out, okay?” While rubbing Olive’s shoulder, the other hand stayed firmly on the wheel. “It’s probably going to be good if you lay down when we get home. Then afterwards, we can talk about it more.”

Olive sat there in confusion which soon morphed into this growing anger. Her mother didn’t outwardly say it, but what she was implying was that the day couldn’t have been that bad. Olive had just lamented all of these things off to her, yet she didn’t even know half of it. Her mother didn’t know the constant nagging she got from the popular girls to reveal her crush, like she was stupid? She had known them well enough to know that whatever they said to reassure her, they’d go and backstab her the first chance they got since it happened to everyone else. Her mother didn’t know that she struggled making friends, all the dang time, barely sparing a glance at the playground hopeful that she’d see someone that maybe she’d be interested in playing with. Maybe they’d like her and not see her as weird or quiet or antisocial? All of those things, wrong. She was always wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong!

These thoughts raced through her head at a million miles an hour, but Olive kept her little mouth shut. She didn’t need a lecture and convincing from someone that had no idea what they were talking about.

More tears pricked at her dark brownie eyes, but Olive was able to contain them as she stared ahead towards their lone house in the middle of the weed field. More houses were continuing to be built, and construction would definitely pick back up during this summer. Their house was worn though, having used to be a warm and welcoming palette of browns and reds, but now it looks more like sand and dead wood. A chalk drawing was scribbled on the brick, a drawing that her mother hadn’t bothered to wash off for years since Olive was three years old.

The greenery out front was wild as the warm weather had enveloped the valley where they lived. The tree out front was blooming just like the ones at school, but their tree was prettier with pink blossoms and it smelled nicer too. Olive couldn’t remember what kind of tree it was through all of her tears and panicked thoughts, but she vaguely recalled her mother referring to it as a crabapple tree. Whenever the branches swayed in the wind, it was hypnotizing just to sit and stare up at the crowns and blossoms and buds, watching it gently rock back and forth. It could put anyone to sleep.

The car pulled into the garage and it came to a screeching stop. The silver minivan was definitely a family car, but it had been serving them well up until the AC unit started doing buggy things. The car was as old as Olive, since her family had purchased it not long after she was born. There were four of them, and the tiny Baby Little Truck just did not hold them comfortably anymore, with its cramped back seats and unreliable transmission; wait, that was later.

Olive shoved the car door open and swung her legs over the ledge to get out after unbuckling her seatbelt. She could hear a familiar high-pitched bark inside, being the tiny fuzz-brained excuse for a dog, Bella. She snatched her backpack and headed towards the door leading into the house. Bella threw her tiny doggy blonde body at Olive’s legs, nearly toppling her off her feet. Her tiny tail was wagging and her big floppy ears were all askew from tossing herself around the place. She greeted Olive with a dog version of a smile before bolting past her to meet her mother who was now taking a few minutes to water the plants.

She didn’t stick around for questioning though as she heard the door slam from her father’s office downstairs. Olive moved to the staircase after quickly kicking off her shoes and took on predator prowess as she ascended the stairs on all fours. Less than a moment later, she was safely within the confines of her room, surrounded by the familiar four walls that she remembered growing up in.

Backpack being relocated to the floor and socks to the hamper, Olive fell onto her bed, letting herself be engulfed by a tsunami of stuffed animals and blankets.  _ Oh, how I’ve missed you! _ She sighed contentedly while reaching for her prized stuffed animal, Sparkles. Sparkles was a gift from her grandmother when they went to the mall. There was a Build-A-Bear Workshop and it was Olive’s Easter Present. She got to pick the kind of animal, the coloring, even the heart that they sow into each creature. There was even a small voice box in the stuffed animal’s wrist. Olive gently pressed the area around the paw and laughter erupted from the plushie, slightly shrill from years of use and repetitive wear on the speaker.

Olive’s eyes were still red from crying, but that didn’t stop the small smile that spread across her lips as she remembered why she loved the plushie’s automated laugh so much. It sounded like her favorite cousin and her best friend, who moved away two years prior to Arizona. They rarely got to see eachother anymore and contact through mobile devices or even facetime was sparse. She missed her cousin, she missed their games and their crazy antics they’d pull on her older cousin Jerome. They once managed to get a hold of a sharpie and trace a mustache above his upper lip. The pair had gotten in trouble, but it had been so worth it to see his face when he realized he couldn’t just scrub it off with a bit of soap.

Olive delicately set the stuffed bear aside next to her pillow before glancing over at her sketchbook propped carefully on the bedside table. With it was an eraser and mechanical pencil, which was much better than the wooden ones since they didn’t require sharpening every single second! She carefully pulled back the paper sketchbook cover, her fingers lightly rubbing the edges as a comforting mechanism. It showed in the yellowed paper as well from the oils in her skin.

Mechanical pencil in hand, she began sketching on a fresh page to clear her thoughts. She didn’t know what it was yet, but it was certainly something. Soon, after many strokes and strikes with the tip of the stylus, Olive was left with a mermaid on her paper. The head consisted of an oval, a nose was another oval but on its side. The eyes were closed and turned upwards with the lips to indicate a smile and the hands were lazily tucked behind the back because Olive didn’t feel like trying to draw hands. The tail was the main thing that Olive was proud of, the satisfying layering of the scales and the subtle curve of the tail fins brought a smile to her face. After hours of torture at school, she could finally come home and feel normal, happy. She didn’t feel like she had to hide her inability to play sports, or lack of social skills, she didn’t have to worry about tests and failing a subject.  _ You can’t fail art. _

**\-------------------**

The Mindscape was finally quiet again. Tensions were still high, but screaming had ceased and arguments had been halted. Aubry had apologized for what she had said earlier, but Mystia was still debating whether or not she actually meant it. The logical side is certainly not one for sentiment and she didn’t expect today to be any different from the rest.

Today was spent outside in the garden next to the mansion. Joyce was sitting with the creative side, eyes glued towards the ground as her fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of the bench. Mystia could tell there was something that she was thinking about, something she wanted to say but was afraid to. Maybe she just didn’t want to say it to her, which didn’t really bother Mystia since it wasn’t really her business anyways.

The creative side had her three golden eyes fixed on the fish pond, observing the rainbow colored creatures swim around in hypnotic twists and circles. Watching them made Mystia’s shoulders loosen and drop their tightness as a small and invisible smile crept across her extraterrestrial features. Aubry could probably provide some sort of explanation to why that is, but Mystia was enjoying her own creative whimsy as she thought up her own theories.

Joyce spared a glance up at Mystia, staring at her unusual but natural appearance with curiosity mixed with hints of worry. Her eyebrows were furrowed together as her glasses kept slipping down her face. “Hey, uh Mystia?” She squeaked out, her stomach already getting tied up in knots as she even thought to dare mention this subject.

“Yes?” Mystia asked, turning cheek to her thoughts to give Joyce her undivided attention.

Joyce quivered a bit, opening her mouth to speak before closing it again.

Mystia’s smile turned into a frown as she adjusted herself to be facing Joyce. “Hey, is something wrong? You can talk to me.” She whispered in reassurance while resting a warm hand on the moral side’s shoulder.

“I-I um. . . I’m sorry, uh, just. Nevermind.”

Mystia insisted. “Hey, it's okay. Tell me, I won’t mind or judge or do anything like that. I promise.”

“It’s not that I-I think you-ll j-judge, I just don’t want to worry you. . .”

“Joyce, you’re worrying me right now. You’re stumbling over your words and you’re struggling to get your idea out. Please, I’m willing to listen if something is bothering you.”

Joyce stared up at Mystia once again, having another overwhelming feeling of pain, panic and stress. “I-I. . .” She tried to speak but found her breath coming up short. “Some-something’s wrong.”

Mystia watched on with her hand tightly clasped around Joyce’s shoulder as she folded down into a ball of tears on the bench. She had had a meltdown earlier in the week, but that one had been worse than this. Mystia could handle this. She just had to remember what Aubry had told her.

“Hey, hey, Joyce. I need you to look at me, okay sweetie?” Mystia asked, trying to keep her own words calm and even.

The younger side shakily lifted her gaze to meet Mystia’s. Her glasses were wet and her nose running. Hands were trembling as she grasped Mystia’s wrist in a desperate plea for help.

“Yeah, good.” Mystia nodded slowly, lowering her voice and slowing her movements. “Now, breathe with me okay?”

Joyce nodded, wiping her nose with her wrist since she didn’t have a tissue on hand.

Mystia smiled warmly and shifted to her more human form, that way she wasn't so visually detached, plus Joyce would be able to see her facial expressions and her mouth for the breathing exercises. “Alright, breathe in through your nose for 4 seconds.” She recited, inhaling a big gulp of air as she did so. “Remember to focus on your breath and nothing else.”

Joyce copied Mystia, her hand tightening on Mystia’s wrist before loosening again.

“Now, hold for 7 seconds.” There was a quiet pause before Mystia continued. “Breathe out through your mouth for 8 seconds.”

Joyce ‒again‒ copied Mystia and they continued this exercise for a number of minutes until Joyce was in control of her airways again. She still seemed deeply shaken, but that initial fear had died away, temporarily leaving a tired and shaky husk behind.

“How are you feeling?” Mystia asked, keeping her hand knitted tightly with Joyce’s.

Joyce took another deep breath into her stomach before letting it free again. “B-better.” She answered as she reached up and removed her glasses to clean them. “I-I’m sorry for breaking down like that.” The young girl whispered as she wiped the lenses clean on her shirt.

Mystia smiled sadly, tightening her hand on Joyce’s. She thought of herself like the moral side’s mother, she and Aubry. They were the oldest in the mindscape as far as she knew, but that didn’t mean they were perfect and they certainly weren’t immune to making mistakes. “You don’t have to apologize, sweetie.” Mystia assured her. “Really.”

Joyce thought otherwise but she slowly nodded. “O-okay. . .”

“Are you still up to telling me what’s wrong or do you need a break?”

“N-no, someone needs to know. I-I feel like everything’s wrong.” Joyce squeaked as she repositioned her glasses back on her nose. Her heart was picking up pace again, but she was practicing the exercises, which helped tremendously.

“How so?” Mystia wondered softly.

Joyce rubbed her eyes, wiping the remaining moisture from her cheeks. “Like. . . I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like someone is wringing me like a damp cloth. I can hardly f-focus and then I get into fits like that. . .” She paused, meeting Mystia’s color-shifting gaze once again. It was like the fish pond in front of them, watching the hues and tones mix and separate into beautiful and perplexing colors that mesmerized the viewer. “Is-is something wrong with me?”

The creative side was thrown by the question. Was something  **wrong** with Joyce? Mystia didn’t think so, but she wasn’t the right side to ask that kind of question. “Well, I don’t think it’s normal,” She began carefully. “But what is normal? It might be something problematic yes, but I don’t think anything is particularly  **wrong** with you.” Mystia stated, running a hand soothingly through Joyce’s mussed up hair. “If I said that something was wrong with you, then I’d probably be a hypocrite.” She chuckled.

Mystia’s words did remove some of the weight from Joyce’s shoulders. It wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. No more tears were threatening to fall from her eyes, the waterworks having been sufficiently drained of their contents. Another question quickly popped into her head though. “Are you going to tell Aubry?”

Mystia pursed her lips as her eyes narrowed. “It would be for the best. I know that she isn’t your favorite being here in the mindscape, but she really is useful when it comes to problem solving. We both love you, even if she doesn’t show it that much. We’re a family, aren’t we?”

The moral side turned her head away, thinking of her sister. Was she still family? Aranza maybe reckless, but she was still caring. Joyce had seen it herself, but Aubry had had enough. Maybe it just isn’t the right time yet.

Yeah, it just wasn’t the right time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how I did on my writing, I kinda expended myself trying to jump out of my comfort zone, and I'm pretty proud of it.


	7. The Ringing Bell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sides cannot catch a break, even when peace has been temporarily re-established, something has to come and ruin it again. Can we get Joyce a dramamine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses a bit more at the end of my elementary school years, like the very tail end.

Joyce’s small fits had continued, but their intensity was easing, much to Aubry’s relief. The logical side had lost her facade of no emotion after the most recent panic attack that sent the poor moral side literally falling out of her chair at dinner. There were many occasions where Mystia would find Aubry outside of Joyce’s door in the morning, waiting for the younger side to wake up and join them for the day of usual activities and meals while Aubry was glued to the screen of a cell phone or the pages of a book with deep circles under her eyes. Many times, the logical side would claim that she was perfectly fine, but the fact that she nearly fell asleep at breakfast along with Joyce proved that neither were getting any sleep and Mystia had grown irritated.

“Joyce, is there anything we can do to help you get to sleep?” Mystia wondered as she set down a bowl of cereal in front of the side, her hands slightly slow moving from having woken up not too long ago.

“I-I don’t know.” Joyce shrugged with a small stutter as she snatched up her spoon and began devouring the sugary contents that consisted of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

Aubry sat at the other end of the table, her nose still pressed firmly into the pages of her book. Her teeth gritted slightly as she rubbed at her wrist with one hand. Antsy was one way to describe the sleep deprived logical side.

Mystia spoke again as she sat at her own seat, briefly noting the vacancy of the chair next to Joyce. “Aubry, we have to do something about this.”

“About what?” She asked, her voice reared up in defense as her knuckles turned white around the spine.

The creative side hesitated before pointing to the circles under Aubry’s eyes. “Those,” The finger moved and pointed towards Joyce. “And that.”

“Yeah, talk about me like I’m not here.” Grunted Joyce as she rolled her eyes. She paused for a moment, trying to guess whether she was finished or wanted another bowl of cereal. Ultimately, she had refilled the bowl with another serving, her hands still shaking.

A growl escaped Mystia’s throat. “Jeez, thanks for humoring me.” She muttered sarcastically before clearing her mind and getting back on track. “Look, this isn’t healthy. For any of us, and I’m sure it isn’t healthy at all for the host.”

“So, just stop what we’re feeling?” Joyce interjected, casting Mystia a rebellious glare. Ugh, she was really starting to get on the creative side’s nerves.

“What? No! Of course not, but we need to figure out what we can do to help each other or else we’re never going to get a steady peace around here.” Mystia sighed as she poked her toast that had now gone cold. “I’m just worried. I’ve been feeling overworked lately, but I’m not nearly as tired as you and Joyce are. You need sleep and rest.”

Aubry grunted begrudgingly in agreement as she closed her book and set it down next to her barren plate. “I understand your concern, Mystia. I really do, but I’m not sure if there is anything that we can really do right now. Nothing short of going on some sort of quest, but that isn’t really necessary considering that whatever we need, we can just conjure up or even teleport to in an instant if we so desired. It is not rational-”

“Neither is your lack of sleep.”

“Regardless, we aren’t looking for something out there, we have to stay here. I agree that we need to find a solution to this problem. Something that will help Joyce especially considering that she is the one having these severe panic attacks. Perhaps it is something that we don’t know of yet, something that is still there in the mindscape but not within our grasp. . .”

“Now you’re just contradicting yourself.”

“What? No. What I’m saying is, is that something may be out there, but we can’t get at it yet regardless of what we do.”

Joyce’s spoon clattered in the ceramic bowl, a quivering sigh escaping her lips as she lightly pushed the bowl away along with the box of deliciousness. She had suddenly lost all of her appetite and the thought of having another one of those attacks scared her. Aubry and Mystia were still talking and Joyce hadn’t noticed how tired Aubry appeared until Mystia pointed it out.

From Joyce’s end of the table, she could see the sagging bags beneath Aubry’s eyes. Her glasses appeared smudged and unclean and her hair wasn’t center like it usually was and there were stray hairs poking out everywhere. Joyce hadn’t even noticed the fact that she was wearing a sweatshirt of all things over her usual dark blue plaid dress shirt. She didn’t look like logic, but instead she looked like some sort of sad hobo on the street. It made Joyce feel terrible as she sunk into her chair, her brownie colored hair falling into her eyes behind her round framed glasses.

She could feel tears beginning to sting and build up as Mystia and Aubry’s exhausted conversation went back and forth, making no progression towards a solution to their dilliema. The moral side wanted her sister, she wanted Aranza. Aranza was temperamental, but she knew how to make Joyce smile with some sort of dark joke or weird potty humor. She could always crack a laugh with Aranza, even if she was in the midst of doing something she probably wasn’t supposed to, like sticking three rolls of toilet paper into the toilet that they technically don’t need to use. Aubry’s face when she had found it was priceless. No bribery would ever match the hilarity of that situation.

**Ding! Ding! Ding!** A bell rang out through the mansion, startling everyone from their thoughts.

Aubry had jumped in her seat, nearly catapulting the plate and book in front of her off the table and into the kitchen. Mystia didn’t have nearly the same reaction, but it did surprise her to say the least as she had also jumped when the bell rang. Another chime of ringing overtook the mansion.

**Ding! Ding! Ding!** It rang again, sounding like a bell tower.

“What in the mindscape was that?” Mystia asked, her golden eyes peering around wildly for some sort of clock that had made a home in the kitchen. Nothing aside from bananas and the three boxes of cereal on the island. The only place reasonable for a clock that could make a sound like that would be by the back door where there was about a foot between the door and counter space, but that was where the shoe rack was.

Aubry eyed around also, adjusting her glasses and settling her nerves. “Do we have a possible bell tower in the mansion that you added and haven’t told me about, Mystia?”

“No. Not that I know of. It might have come from outside, but there wouldn’t really be any reason for a bell tower to be outside or even exist in the first place.”

Joyce cut in, her hands trembling. “Maybe we should go investigate and see if we can find the source, right? It’ll give us something to do, other than sit around and argue all day.”

The logical side across the table pushed up her glasses. “I do not agree that we argue that much, but finding where that noise had come from could be beneficial. Let’s clean up the table, get dressed, and then we’ll see what was making that ratchetful sound.”

“Whoa! Vocabulary!” Mystia exclaimed as she jumped from her chair, having a sudden burst of energy. She just had the urge to go out and adventure, like she had done when she was a little tadpole before finding Joyce and Aranza in that crystal. 

With the kitchen soon cleaned and the table wiped down, the trio trampled upstairs to their rooms to get ready.

The door clicked shut behind Joyce and she sighed, leaning against it before peering into her room.

She smiled, eyeing the fun and tropical wallpaper that lined the walls. A dresser sat in the left corner of her room, next to an open sliding door closet with a mirror on the face. Shag cream carpet coated the floorboards beneath Joyce’s feet, speckled with stuffed animals here and there who were often in the crouched down position like they were hunting for their next meal.

Joyce loved stuffed animals, she didn’t know why, but she did. She usually got one for her birthday every year, or even two stuffed animals, but those ones were usually quite large. One of her more recent giant stuffed animals had been a giraffe with big button eyes and a soft printed pattern that was cleverly sewn together. There was a tag that was labeled, “Beanie Boo Ripoffs: George” on the bottom of the back left hoof.

On the other side of the room was Joyce’s bed. It was a dorm bed, having the mattress on top with a desk underneath, which was insanely cluttered with all sorts of papers and little projects. Some were drawings, others were writings. Even though creativity was Mystia’s department, Joyce enjoyed her little crafts since they kept the attacks away for the most part. There was a pair of shelves on either side of the desk filled with knick-knacks like cute little paperweights, squishies, handmade dolls, crafted projects, picture frames, a scented candle, pretty looking rocks, and so much more. Oh, and some mini stuffed animals to add to her plushie hoard.

Next to the bed and the mess that is the moral side’s desk, there was a small play area with a table positioned close to the large curtained window. One brightly colored and painted chair sat tucked beneath the wooden surface while three more were stacked in the corner and out of the way. Under the table was a large container filled with LEGOs and LEGO sets. She had quite a few girly ones, but she also appreciated the StarWars ones, especially her X-wing and the transport ship that comes with a funny looking droid that she had come to name DD after having forgotten the actual name a while ago. This play area was also where she liked to paint, as evident by the acrylic paint splotches that refuse to come out of the finish and the surrounding carpet.

This place was one of Joyce’s favorite spaces in the mindscape, and this was when it was clean. Her hand rested on the wall, lightly running her fingers over the canvas textured, tropical fruit wallpaper. The colors were so vibrant and it brought a smile to her face until she finally remembered why she was here.

_ Clothes! _ She thought, running to her closet. When she opened the door, many more toys fell out along with half of her stuffed animal collection. Oh well, she’d just have to pick it up later. Digging through the selection of apparel, Joyce settled on a light blue polo dress top, paired with her topical pineapple themed leggings.

She tugged on her clothes and quickly did up her hair into two pig-tails and rushed out the door, narrowly remembering to grab a pair of tennis shoes in the process.

As Joyce moved down the stairs, she heard another ear splitting ring from the mysterious disembodied bell that seemed to haunt the mindscape. The moral side dropped her shoes and covered her ears, her shoulders tensing as a shriek bellowed through the mansion.

The world was still ringing when Joyce came too as she slowly looked down the stairwell. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, but as she moved her gaze to the window, she noticed that their family stained glass window had been shattered, along with all their other windows into the mansion.

“What-how?” Joyce stuttered out in confusion with a heavy dosage of fear mixed in. Her hands began to tremble and she felt another attack start rushing into her mind, clutching her heart in an iron grip and grasping her lungs so tightly it was hard to breathe. Tears were rolling down her cheeks while she tugged at her shirt when she sensed Aubry and Mystia had arrived just behind her.

Their mouths were moving, but no sound escaped their lips, and if there was sound, it was muffled and far off, like Joyce was trapped in some kind of bubble. They were soon in her face, shaking her shoulders and grabbing her hands. Blurred vision and all, Joyce couldn’t hear, feel, or see a thing other than fear as another shrill shriek ricocheted through her mind like a lightning bolt.

Little did the moral side know that that scream was partly her own doing as she cried for help, for someone to come and save her as the other two sides were there, desperately trying to pull her out of it.

“Joyce! Joyce! It’s alright, we’re here!” Aubry yelped, trying to be heard over the younger side’s yelling and thrashing. “Sweetie! Please!”

“She can’t hear you.” Mystia answered for Joyce, her tanned hands trembling as she grasped Joyce’s shoulders. “I don’t think it’s ever been this bad. . .”

“Perhaps the bell triggered it?” Aubry hypothesised, her brows furrowing with deep concern as she pulled Joyce from Mystia’s grasp into a loving hug. “Or maybe the shattering of the glass or the shriek? All of those things can be very distressing, especially with all of these problems that have been happening recently. It could have greatly affected Joyce and her ability to process simple sensory, visual, or audible inputs altogether. Without those pillars, it may be a challenge to ground her thoughts in any situation.”

“So, what do we do?” Mystia questioned, her hands fidgeting with her brightly colored hair which was a mix between pink, yellow, and the nebula at the moment.

The logical side looked down at the shaking girl in her arms, her breath shakily slowing to even and steady itself. “We must wait for a few minutes, until we are sure that she can hear us. From there, we can do the exercises and that should help. We need to find the owner of that sound-”

“The bell or the scream?”

“Yes, we need to find both. I don’t trust leaving Joyce here alone, especially after all of our windows shattered. It isn’t safe for her, plus we may leave the host in a bad situation where they could be running purely on adrenaline.”

“Doesn’t make much sense but I understand your concern.” Mystai sighed, rubbing her eyes as the sobs and cries for help had finally calmed down. “Hey, Joyce. Do you hear us?” The creative side continued, resting a hand on the moral side’s shoulder.

Joyce slowly looked up to meet Mystia’s golden eyes, her own red and puffy from tears while her throat was almost certainly raw from all that screaming. She nodded, although didn’t seem too sure of herself as her facial features scrunched together.

“Good, good.” Mystia cooed with relief, her hand moving to Joyce’s back and rubbing in soothing circles.

From there, it was easy to calm Joyce down, now it was just a matter of getting past the glass, out of the mansion, and finding that obnoxious bell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have some fun stuff!


	8. Reality Check

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio go off in search of the mysterious ringing bell that shattered the windows in the mansion. While they are off searching, Aubry is doing her best to problem solve but can only come up with one viable solution that may not even give them answers. They have to figure out how to contact the host and Mystia is the key to doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope those of you who are reading this have read through the other chapters because it kind of gives a good amount of foreshadowing. Some events are happening simultaneously during other events in the mindscape and reality. Just something to keep in mind.

The group searched for hours for this mysterious hidden bell. Every once and awhile, it would chime another melancholy melody that would echo throughout the mindscape. As they were searching, every time they heard it’s song it would become farther and farther away until it was a soft ringing in their ears, barely discernible from the wind.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to track it anymore if we can’t hear it.” Mystia grumbled, pointing out the obvious as she ran a hand through her long wavy hair.

“Thank you for your astute observation. . .” Aubry huffed, glancing at the creative side somewhat annoyed. She had chosen to wear flats today, but it didn’t make much difference to her fatigue and pain considering that she got no sleep last night! “We aren’t able to hear it, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t there. It may be teleporting itself away on purpose to evade us and your shenanigans. I do think it’s important though to find out why it began in the first place, especially if you weren’t the one to conjure it, Mystia.”

She rolled her eyes in retaliation, her foot tapping impatiently. “Ok, I get it. I’m not the smartest here, so sue me. It’s not like we can just pop up and start talking to the host like, ‘Hi! My name’s Mystia! I’m your creative side and I’m here to help you get creative and get all those happy chemicals!’” Mystia squeaked mockingly, poking her cheeks innocently with her pointer fingers before they fell back to her sides. “It didn’t work like that, last time I checked.” She grunted.

Joyce finally appeared beside them, breathing hard, short and fast since she had been running to catch up with them when she had gotten distracted by a flower. She took a moment to catch her breath and soon began listening to Mystia and Aubry. They seemed to be talking about the host that they still haven’t met.

The logical side paused in thought, taking Mystia’s odd statement into consideration. “Well, perhaps there is a way to come face to face with the host?” The words were spoken softly, almost a mumble.

Mystia’s eyes widen in shock as she quickly shakes her head and plants her feet firmly into the ground. “Wait! You’re serious about this? I was joking!”

“I know.” Aubry replied, finally looking up to Mystia’s ethereal eyes. “But it does have some logical sense to it. We are all representations or facets of our host’s single personality. Though they may not know of us, that doesn’t mean that we don’t know of them and what their weaknesses and strengths are.

“Mystia, you have said it before yourself that you believe you are among the oldest beings in the mindscape, but you never remember creating the world that you landed in, correct? That’s because I believe that you didn’t, I did. I’m not trying to declare myself the queen of the castle, but I’m explaining factual information. Our views and our knowledge come from the input of the outer world of that which our host resides in, such as trees, buildings, clothing, grass, earth. Everything. It’s a logical understanding of what we see and hear. According to my studies -which also aren’t Mystia’s works and just happen to appear in my library- our world is not nearly as accurate as we believe it is. There are no floating islands, no odd colored water or strange animals like that one creature that you named a treesacap.”

“Excuse me!” Mystia gasped, “Treesacaps are only the most incredible creatures you’ll ever see!”

“Anyways,” Aubry huffed while adjusting her glasses. “Continuing on with my explanatory exposition. Joyce we’ve already established is our host’s emotions and feelings. She may also represent morality in a sense, but that is stretching our limited information beyond its own support, continuing with this trend, Mystia represents our host’s creative side. Your older age and enhanced abilities are most likely the result of an enlarged role that you play in our host’s life and everyday activities, but it may also explain why you tend to age at random intervals.”

“All I’m hearing is words.” Joyce mumbled as she tugged on her polo dress.

Aubry continued on, ignoring the moral side’s comment. “You already began being able to walk and think in coherent sentences the moment you came into existence, which Joyce could not do. Since then, sometimes you occasionally gain a few years in physical age or possibly de-age or regress to the mentality of a teenage adolescence.”

Mystia blinked her eyes a few times as she rested a hand on Joyce’s shoulder. “I don’t see how any of this relates to us being able to talk with the host. . .”

“Ugh!” Aubry growled, rubbing her temples. “My point is that we influence each-other. Greatly! So much so that if we are able to tap into their creative side, you Mystia, WE COULD COMMUNICATE WITH THEM ON THE FUNDAMENTAL LEVEL!”

The creative side held up her free hand in defense as she pulled Joyce into her side. “Whoa, chill out! I see now, but you don’t have to go yelling about it.”

“I WASN’T YE-!” Aubry paused, her face scrunching together as she attempted another deep breath to calm her crankiness. “I’m sorry for raising my voice towards you. This entire day has just been. . .”

“Irritating?” Joyce suggested, her hand clasped tightly in Mystia’s.

“That is one word for it, yes.” Aubry nodded slowly. Aubry’s eyes would occasionally cast a look down at their hand-holding, but she didn’t say a word as she kept her arms folded over her chest. She was still in her sweatshirt.

Mystia untangled her fingers from Joyce’s and moved it to the younger side’s shoulder. It weighed heavy there, even though her hands were long and thin and very petite compared to Joyce’s. Her nails were painted a calming shade of purple that went well with the hair color she was wearing. Finally, Mystia spoke again. “So. . . Aubry? How do we do this?”

The logical side snapped her head towards Mystia in surprise. She didn’t think that the creative side would be willing to attempt talking with the host. If anything, she thought that maybe Mystia would start to laugh and tell her that her ideas were ridiculous, which was super hypocritical considering the place that they lived in. “You’re-you’re serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious! Who do you think I am, some two faced liar?” Mystia rolled her eyes defensively while tightening her grip on Joyce’s shoulder.

“No, no. I just- I didn’t think you’d be willing to try this- this idea. I truthfully believed that you would laugh at me.” Aubry grunted, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket and grinding her teeth.

Blinking two or three times to process that information, Mystia’s frown had turned into a sad smile. “Are you kidding? Of course I wouldn’t laugh at you, and of course I’d be willing to try this idea if it can give us any information on what’s going on with Joyce. I may be a bit egotistical at times, but I’m not heartless or inconsiderate. Now, tell me what I need to do.”

Aubry stared at Mystia blanky, her eyes stinging a bit with tears of joy and relief. Mystia was actually going to be helpful and not annoying for once! She was willing to listen and do as Aubry asked! Mystia didn’t mock her or laugh as she had expected, but instead she had smiled and asked what she needed to do to make it happen. Well, Aubry wasn’t quite sure how to make it happen that is.

“I am truthfully unsure how to trigger your creative abilities in a sense that can connect us with the host. Perhaps elevating your artistic inspiration may help?”

The young side finally piped in once again, her voice small but supportive. “Oh, um. . . Like when she’s feeling really creative? What makes you creative, Mystia?”

The creative side contemplated their words carefully. Her eyes literally lit up with energy as a smile spread across her lips. “Can I open the reservoirs?” Mystia queried, her form trembling with anticipation.

Joyce gulped and shrugged. “I-I thought Aubry said that was dangerous and ill-advised.”

“Yes, I did say that.” Aubry interjected, offering a hand to Joyce. “But, we care enough about you to take whatever risks it could bring, alright?”

The young side’s big eyes moved to Aubry’s outstretched hand. It was petite like Mystia’s, but they were calloused in multiple places from the baton-like usage of a pencil at her desk in the evenings, flipping pages in a book that she would read, a large callus on her ring finger from years of writing. Not only that, they were covered in ink and lead from her hardy death grip she had on styluses. She had even broken a wooden pencil once, which is why she now used exclusively mechanical pencils.

Slowly, Joyce took Aubry’s hand and even though they were heavily calloused like aforementioned, they had a warmness to them. A warmth that Joyce couldn’t describe if she tried. Although Aubry was meant to represent logic, maybe she encompassed more than just numbers and literature. “Okay.” The young side nodded, tangling her fingers with Aubry’s like a scared little child seeking comfort from their loved ones.

She turned her gaze back to Mystia who was still standing and awaiting instruction. The creative side smiled warmly to Joyce, her hair flowing beautifully across her shoulders similar to a temperamental waterfall dyed with pink and blue and purple pigment churned with glitter.

“Go ahead Mystia. We trust you that you will have things under control if you do decide on opening the reservoirs.” The logical side spoke once Joyce was securely next to her.

The creative side grinned from ear to ear, her hands coming to rest on her hips. Joyce blinked once, then twice and soon they were standing in a sort of bubble.

Around them was something she couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

The trio stood in an open clearing, around them were mountains and trees. But, the trees didn’t look green and brown like you’d expect, they were dripping with vibrant colors of autumn dashed with spring with the saturation turned up to 100%. It hurt her eyes until she was able to adjust and then the creatures began coming. There were birds the size of houses with flaming red plumage and long beautiful tail-feathers; there were what looked to be savannah based animals like a gazelle painted to look like a leopard or a leopard patterned to look like a cheetah; there were schools of flying fish swimming in the open air around above-water coral reefs. There were manticores and dragons in the distance and alien creatures scuttling under foot just waiting to get eaten up or accidentally stepped on. There was smoke from villages and skyscrapers from advanced civilizations barely visible through the distant fog and odd beasts.

It was all so breathtaking. Who needs puppies when you can conjure yourself a baby dragon? Nevermind, you always need puppies. It doesn’t matter if you’re allergic or not or if they shed all over everything. They’re puppies.

“Oh. . .My~” Joyce slowly uttered, her big brown eyes wide with wonder and astonishment. Over her shoulder, Joyce saw Mystia. She looked ethereal and powerful. Her more human looking form had been replaced with her original space being aesthetic. Her hair flowed around her, seemingly fading into the environment behind her as her golden eyes glowed intensely. Flowers sprouted beneath her, but so did undead limbs reaching up to grab Mystia’s ankles although they quickly pulled away when Mystia simply flicked her wrist dismissively.

“Wow.” Was all Joyce was able to say as she clutched Aubry’s hand. “Why can’t we do that?” She whispered.

Aubry smiled at Joyce’s innocent curiosity. “It’s one of her special talents as the representative of creativity. She can construct the mindscape’s physical appearance however she pleases.”

Joyce pondered the logical side’s explanation before glancing up at Aubry quizzically. “So, she can mold the physical appearance. . . Does that mean that you can dictate how it all works?”

The logical side stared down at Joyce, shocked at first but also very intrigued by the idea. “Truthfully, I have never tried what you’re suggesting. It’s never come up, but I suppose my presence is the only reason that there is _rhyme_ or _reason_ to this strange place that we live. It follows basic principles such as trees are plants, the ground is something that we can stand on, excetera.”

“Yeah, yeah. Stuff like that!” Joyce laughed.

“Well, I would love to test your theory, Joyce, but we need to focus on right now. We can test it later though when things have perhaps settled down and Mystia can repair our mansion.”

“Okay!” Joyce couldn’t wait for that day until they could experiment with their abilities. She wasn’t sure what she could do, but she hoped maybe it would be as significant as Aubry’s and Mystia’s abilities.

That’s when the mystifying world around them began to melt away all of a sudden. It jolted Joyce and Aubry back to the situation at hand. Mystia was still in front of them, but she looked strained and focused on something that Aubry nor Joyce couldn’t see.

Joyce felt her insides jostle and tug within her gut, her brain’s orientation of what was up and down became temporarily meaningless as weightlessness took hold. For a brief second, it was like euphoria, and then it was thrown off a building and landed with a bone-crunching thud on a carpeted floor. The world was still spinning, but as Joyce came too, she saw the room was quint and simple compared to her own back at the mansion. She saw Aubry standing over her, a look of worry in her eyes. The logical side was standing in her regular heels, pencil skirt and blue plaid dress shirt. Her hair was tucked neatly and professionally, unlike Joyce’s rat nest.

“What-what happened?” She asked, trying to find anything familiar about the new landscape.

“I believe Mystia has ‘pulled it off.’” Aubry summarized, offering a hand to the younger side. With a quick tug, Joyce was back on her feet and adjusting her glasses. “We haven’t been here long, but I can hear movement downstairs. An elder male discussing something with a younger female by the tone and vocal patterns, there was also a rumbling growl just beneath us less than a moment ago.”

Mystia stumbled up next to them. She was back to her more normal but still ethereal self. The creative side had dark circles under her eyes and they were already fading as she blinked the sunlight out of her eyes that was filtering through the decorative window.

The trio then took a moment to properly inspect the room. There was a large dorm style bed, similar to Joyce’s, in the upper left hand corner of the room. It was about 8 feet tall according to Aubry’s swift calculations and observation and Mystia was able to identify the colors that it was painted. Brownie brown and golden peanut butter. Note, none of this information was really necessary. 

On the other side of the room across from the dorm bed was a chest of drawers painted a cream white and carved with ornaments of flowers and floral. Above it was another chest of drawers stacked like a tower, but it had multi-colored containers that slid in and out. There were six of them. One was filled with paper, another had simple craft supplies, the third had filled sketchbooks and the remaining three held more of the previously listed contents.

Next to the towering chest of drawers was a walk-in closet, but the apparel that lived inside didn’t match anything that the main room displayed. Every piece of clothing had some staple black color that dominated the outfit with a splash of a tropical hue for accents while the room was painted a cotton candy pink. It was a paradox to Aubry.

Moving to the wall opposing the window, there was a small bookshelf, cluttered with knick-knacks and Monster High dolls and a collection of Arizona Lime Rickey cans. It too was painted a cream white, but it didn’t have the same motif and grandiosity that the chest of drawers did. Mystia described it as very slapstick.

Above the book-shelf was a bulliton-white-board hybrid. On the left side there were push-pins that held up pictures of artistic projects and works and on the other side there were scribbled words that were hard to read. The only thing truly eligible was the “Mom” and “Dad” and their phone numbers.

“My, this room is. . . Something.” Mystia commented, glancing around curiously at some of the posters decorating the walls. “Very mismatched, but I like it.” She chuckled, lightly poking a tiny stuffed animal on it’s button nose.

Aubry rolled her eyes, brushing off her clothes. Her physical sleep deprivation had disappeared, but Joyce could still hear the soft slurs in her voice when she mumbled or commented. “Of course you would like it, Mystia. It was most likely inspired by your ideas.”

“Oh! Are you saying this is the host’s room?” Mystia wondered, swiveling around on her heel to face Aubry. Excitement was evident in her big golden eyes, and the sudden closeness clearly made the logical side uncomfortable as she lightly shoved Mystia away and out of her personal bubble.

“Yes. I do not see how we can be in any other room. It would only be logical that we manifest in this reality in a space that the host would spend most of their time or be most comfortable in.” Aubry explained, her eyes moving towards the door. Her explanations started to taper off after that, converging more into tangled strings of thoughts that she’d occasionally grumble under her breath.

Joyce continued exploring the shrunken space, her child-like curiosity taking hold as she began digging through drawers and exploring the hidden secrets of a basket that held some deliciously sweet contents. A stash of sugar! From there, Mystia had to keep her out of said sugar stash before they were all doomed.

Just as Mystia was able to tug the bag away from Joyce, they heard a thump against the door, followed by a sigh. The doorknob turned and then the door slowly creaked open. A young girl stood there, her eyes red and her entire form sad and frail looking. She was in nearly all black with a pair of glasses falling down her face. Her hair was dark and an absolute mess and there were deep circles under her eyes.

This new girl tiredly looked up and saw Mystia, Aubry, and Joyce all standing awkwardly around the bag of gummy octopuses that the youngest side had swiped from the stash of sugar. She tried to open her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her tired eyes were wide with newfound confusion and fear. These three had just suddenly appeared in her room!

“Uh. . .” Olive mumbled, “Who are you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter may be a little late to some people. I was busy with arting and trying not to die due to freakin' end of year stuff. I'm working on this still, I promise!


	9. Sides Meet Host

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introductions are essential when establishing relationships in any shape or form. Also, never judge a book by its cover because you never know what's inside or the reason it came to be.  
> This chapter is also about two pages shorter when viewed in google docs, so yeah. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has a lot angst. Next one won't be so bad, but if you're triggered by anxiety, mentions of suicidal thoughts, or really anything in that category, this chapter isn't for you.

The room was filled with an uneasy silence that gripped all of the people inside its walls. Joyce wanted to burst out crying for no reason, but she couldn’t find the emotion to do so, in fact, it felt like she couldn’t breathe again. It’s like the air had been stripped from her lungs and they were shriveled raisins inside her ribcage. Why was this happening? Why now of all times?

Aubry finally found the courage to introduce herself as Mystia moved to help Joyce regain her composure.

“My name is Aubry.” She spoke with an attempt of a smile plastered on her lips. She was good at hiding the worry in her tone. “These two here are Mystia and Joyce. May I ask your name?” She questioned, adjusting her glasses while Mystia tugged Joyce to her feet.

Olive was frozen, her face pale. She was horrified by the sudden presence of these three just standing around in her room, not to mention probably going through her stuff and everything private about her life that she didn’t want anyone, much less her family to know. “Did-did my mom let you in or something?” She finally croaked out, her knuckles turning white as she dug her fingers into the palms of her hands. None of this made sense to her in any regard.

“Mom?” Aubry echoed, like she had never heard the word before. “Oh! You mean your female parental guardian?” The logical side guessed as Olive slowly shuffled over to her chair and plopped herself down in the cushioned seat.

“Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess?” Olive mumbled. Briefly catching a glimpse at the equally terrified Joyce her shoulders loosened as she felt an intense pang of empathy towards her. “Does, does that one need help?” She wondered, shakily raising a hand to point a finger at Joyce.

“Ah, uh. Working on it!” Mystia smiled sheepishly before continuing the breathing exercises they practiced back in the mindscape. Soon Joyce’s breathing was back and so was her grin, though it was a bit lopsided and her usual smile was filled with nervousness.

“Heh, sorry about that. Joyce is doing good now.” Mystia assured Olive as they turned back to the younger looking girl sitting on the chair. She took quick notice of the dark color scheme and frowned.  _ It’s just the color black. Is she alright? _ Mystia wondered before trotting up to her with a smile on her face. Right now, it didn’t matter. “Hello! I’m Mystia and I’m perfectly capable of introducing myself!” She cheered, her fingers twitching with newfound excitement. “Aubry’s talked about you a lot, even though she’s never really met you before and all‒”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” Olive questioned defensively, her form tensing again. Did these weirdos know her? Why was this Mystia lady so brightly colored? It was hurting Olive’s eyes.

“Ah, yes. We’ve given you our names, but not exactly  **who** we are.” Mystia laughed at her own mistake. Whoops! “In short, we can be described as facets of your personality, well that’s how Ms. Logical puts it over there.”

“Because that’s the clearest way to explain it to you!” Aubry huffed, her eyes narrowing with irritation.

Olive looked down in thought, carefully considering Mystia’s words. “So, you aren’t real?”

“Well, that’s kind of offensive. I wouldn’t say we weren’t real because we exist in some form.” Mystia grunted, straightening her back and shifting her hands to her hips. As Mystia was talking, Aubry was trying to think of some way to explain all of these things to this girl. She could only assume that she was the host, that she was the one who created them (unintentionally that is). They were all connected so closely, yet neither party knew of the other, or somehow chose to omit the information. No, that was unlikely. Although, maybe this young girl had thought of the idea of personifications of her emotions or facets some time ago as a coping mechanism for a stressful situation or period in her life. The more that Aubry contemplated the possibilities, the more paradoxical it became.

“Earth to Aubry!” Mystia’s voice suddenly cut into the logical side’s thoughts.

“Ah, my apologies.” Aubry replied swiftly, her hands instinctively moving to push up her glasses. “I was thinking about something in particular.”

The creative side rolled her eyes before gesturing to Olive who was still sitting in the chair. “She’s asked you multiple times what we are. You know our state of being or whatever better than anyone in this room.”

Their eyes met, Aubry’s and Olive’s and she could feel the tense energy radiating from her. She was scared and wanting answers to questions that only Aubry could reliably answer. Even then, Aubry’s very existence went against scientific fact that supported the well-being development of a young individual like Olive. The whole reason they were here could be connected to a problem that jeopardizes Olive’s future lifestyle and decisions. Aubry wished they could’ve met under better circumstances, but wishing was futile in the grand scheme of things. It had no impact on what you do, it was a state of mind.

Olive frowned, her patience pulling thin and taught until it might snap. “Well?” She demanded, her tone becoming more harsh.

“Ah, yes. There is no basic or simple way that explains what we are or exactly how we are here in your bedroom. But, summarizing what Mystia had said earlier, we are facets of your personality. We exist in your conscious and subconscious mental state. A good comparison is that we are physical representations of your core personality traits. Myself ‒I’ve come to learn‒ represent logic and your logical thinking. I handle all tasks and activities that involve methodical or critical thinking as well as STEM field subjects like science, technology, engineering, and mathematics. Finally, I am also accustomed to the fundamental building blocks of English literature.”

“She helps me with my stories!” Mystia cut in, trying to loosen up the atmosphere.

Olive managed a tiny smile, again her shoulders relaxing. They were slowly reaching through to her, but she still held herself like someone who was in trouble. That’s what Joyce had noticed.

Aubry then turned her attention to Mystia so the creative side could introduce herself and what she did, which Mystia more than gladly obliged to. “I’m Mystia!” She cooed as her introduction, “I represent your creativity. At least, I’m pretty sure I do. I do a lot of creative things, that much I know. Anyways, I like to draw, write, create, and just be me in general. I’m not sure what else to say because I don’t like getting put on the spot a lot.”

The logical side shook her head. “Mystia is very humble as well. She doesn’t know how to take compliments from anyone.”

“I don’t need to be complimented.” Mystia grumbled, her lips puckering into a pout.

Joyce found herself stepping forward last. Her heart was pounding, but she could sympathize with the fear in Olive’s eyes. She managed a more genuine smile and brushed the hair from her eyes. “I-I’m Joyce.” The words were forced out as she tried to reach a level of comfort. “I don’t really know what I represent.” Joyce admitted quietly, her face flushing in embarrassment. “The others think that I’m a representation of your moral side for simplicity, but I don’t think it really fits me. If I was moral, then I probably wouldn’t be afraid to stop fights or do all of that stuff. Lately, I’ve just been really nervous and fearful I guess. Maybe I represent fear?”

“No, you definitely don’t represent fear.” Mystia huffed, resting a hand on Joyce’s shoulder. “Really.”

Aubry took this opportunity to steer them onto the topic of the recent complications they’ve been having. “You‒”

“Olive.”

“Olive. We’ve been having difficulties with Joyce as she had previously mentioned. As your logical thought processing, I’ve deducted it down to influence, but I cannot go any further in my investigations. In short, you as our host, influence us as your personality. It can be physiological or mental outside occurrences that affect how we act and who we become and vice versa. Is there anything recently that may be upsetting you?”

Olive stared blankly at the logical side. Throat still raw from sobbing, she could feel the muscles inside tensing once again and readying to recite another opera of tears. “I. . .” Olive tried to choke out, but it got caught between her teeth as her brown eyes glossed over. Lately, everything has been upsetting her. The people at school that she constantly wanted to kill; the teachers who had no clue what they were doing or what they were teaching to begin with; the fact that her mother kept trying to deny that she didn’t hate elementary school, she just strongly disliked it, which was a massive understatement; Olive had no friends and she didn’t think that anyone even liked her being around. If Olive was being honest with herself, she thought that this world would be better without her. They wouldn’t have to be burdened with a stressed child who was just dealing with early hormones and no social life. They’d be free without her.

The list could go on and on. There were tears rolling down Olive’s cheeks now while the three rushed to her side. Joyce could feel another attack coming on but she’d keep it away to the best of her ability by doing the corresponding exercises, for Olive’s sake.

“I’m sorry!” Olive sobbed quietly as she pressed her face into the palms of her hands. Tears were coming and they weren’t slowing down either, there was no stopping them until the water-works were depleted of their contents. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry!” She apologized over and over again in a desperate whisper as Aubry rested a hand on Olive’s shoulder. Through the jacket Aubry could feel Olive’s cold skin and her shoulders trembling. Her breath hitched with every sob as she tried to keep the noise to a minimum. It had all come crashing down and it was more than the poor girl could handle.

_ What do I do?  _ Aubry thought, her eyebrows knitting with concern and guilt.  _ They are depending on me to keep everything under control, but I have no idea what I’m doing! I don’t understand emotions like Joyce or Mystia do. I’m useless right now. _

Joyce watched as Olive broke down in front of her. The anxiety was right there, trying to claw at her and tell her to cry with her, but something else was telling her no. She cannot be weak right now. She shoved the anxiety to the back of her mind and found herself wrapping her arms around Olive in a comforting hug. The young side’s eyes were threatening to spill tears as well, but they weren’t for her own misgivings she’s had in the mindscape. They were for Olive.

The moment that she made contact with the young girl, she could feel so much. There was love, guilt, anger, sadness, horror, curiosity, and hatred all swirling together in one incomprehensive mass that had made a home deep in the crevices of Olive’s heart. It broke Joyce’s heart just listening to all the negativity inside of Olive, so much self-hatred and loathing. From one touch, Joyce knew that Olive hated every inch of herself. She hated the reflection that she saw in the mirror because all she could see was the acne scarring, the deep circles under her eyes, the flat and boring hair. Her nose was crooked and her teeth were stained yellow. She wasn’t skinny or toned and she was self-conscious about her thighs and her hips and her stomach that folded funny whenever she bent over. From one touch, she could feel the compassion that Olive had for her loving family, but it was mixed with anger and sadness as she thought that they’d never understand what she was going through. She could feel the happiness that Olive experienced when she and her sister didn’t fight and when they could actually agree on something to watch together. There was gratitude towards her mother who loved her so dearly, she’d give up everything just to see Olive smile or to see her healthy. There was respect for Olive’s father who always smiled at her and demanded a hug whenever they crossed paths on the way to or from the kitchen or living room. He’d constantly tell her nostalgic stories of his childhood with his own siblings and how they managed to make a poor teenage boy run across camp stark naked for his towel that was hung at the perch of a pine tree. Then he’d proceed to berate Olive and her sister and tell them never to do what he did when he was a boy. It always made them laugh.

Olive’s life Isn’t horrible. In fact, it is filled with so much light and hope for a brighter future that she couldn’t begin to describe. It would just take some time to get there.

“It’s alright, it’s okay. I understand everything.” Joyce whispered as she began rubbing Olive’s back in soothing circles. The weight of her hand brought comfort to the young girl as she buried her face into Joyce’s shoulder. Joyce suddenly felt like Aubry and Mystia when they were comforting her during her outbursts. In that moment of time, all Joyce felt was unconditional love for Olive like she was her one and only child and nobody else mattered for those few seconds. Joyce wanted Olive to feel the love she had for her, that none of those other things mattered and all that mattered was that she was alive and she was beautiful in her own right and that nobody, not even her own words, should ever have the audacity to tell her otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing this, I got really in the zone and was just looking back at the memories from elementary school. I'm not an expert on anything psychological, but I do know if you're struggling, don't wait to talk to someone. Talk to your loved ones, a professional doctor, a therapist, or really anyone you trust to get the help that you need. Don't wait for them to come to you, because they may not be able to see it so easily. I know it's scary and it feels like you're alone, but you're not. There is someone there who wants you to be in their lives, who loves you and cares about you. You just may not know it. Again, don't wait for someone to come to you. Take care!


	10. Things Are Calming Down. . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olive rants about her general life to the sides. She wishes that people could just be smart for once, but they comfort her and tell her that things will be alright. She just needs to give it time. They then change the subject and start talking to get to know one another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about a page longer than the other chapters on the google doc. Just an FYI.

Around 20 minutes into Olive’s meltdown, she was beginning to collect herself and her thoughts. They were so scattered, so stretched and thin that none of the sides really knew what she was feeling other than Joyce.

The emotional side sat close to Olive on the floor after the young girl had finally pulled away around 5 minutes earlier. She was still sniffling and snot was collected via a tissue. This was the first time that Mystia had ever seen Joyce be so responsible, plus. . . She looked like she had grown by at least 7 years. Granted, Joyce’s face was still round and peppered with freckles but her eyes had somewhat matured and she had advanced in height. Her clothing was unchanged and had only grown with her.

Aubry was the first to notice the change in age, but said nothing. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment.

“I’m sorry.” Olive apologized for the thousandth time. Her voice was so raw and hoarse, it sounded like she was choking on a chip.

“No. Sssh. Don’t be.” Joyce stated firmly, her big brown eyes looking over Joyce carefully. “Do not be sorry, because nothing is your fault. Do not apologize for something that you cannot control.”

“B-but-”

“No buts.”

Olive opened her mouth to dare speak again, but quickly shut it as she recalled what Joyce had just told her less than 10 seconds before. “What-what else am I-I supposed to say?”

The logical side cut in at this junction, adjusting her glasses as an old habit. “Say thank you. It is a hefty expression of gratitude, expressed in hundreds of different languages throughout the world. It is even conveyed in forms of sign-language and braille. By saying thank you, it is a way of giving someone gratitude for help by comfort, talking it out, or any other form of aid. It is a much better alternative to saying  _ I’m sorry _ , because in that case you are implying that what has happened is your fault, which it is not. If there is anything that I have learned besides mathematics, literature and science it is that emotions are a fickle thing and they are incredibly difficult to control even with experience and age.”

“You’re one to talk about emotions.” Mystia mumbled under her breath, which earned her a sharp glare from Aubry who was clearly irritated. Mystia’s hands flew up in defense as she scooted further away closer to the drawers for her own safety.

Olive ignored Mystia’s snarky comment and pondered Aubry’s words. Would saying thank you be any better than sorry? It sounded like it, but Olive still wasn’t convinced. This was all too simple, right? Yeah, way to too simple.

“It sounds too easy. Nothing is ever easy.” She whispered, her eyes watching Joyce and Aubry thoughtfully.

“Well, guess what? Some things actually are really easy! I mean yes, some things are also difficult too” The emotional side cooed comfortingly. “My point is that it’s easy in the sense that all you have to do is say a different word, but making sure you stick to that agenda is the more difficult part.”

Mystia popped up next to the dresser, her golden eyes lighting up with excitement. “We’ll be right here to help you! We won’t ever abandon you, and if we do something’s probably wrong.”

_ Jab! _ Went Aubry’s elbow into Mystia’s ribs, knocking the air right out of her lungs. “Ow! What was that for?”

“You were not helping the situation with your latest statement.” Aubry explained curtly as she folded her arms across her chest, her brows knitted tightly while her nose scrunched.

The creative side growled softly. “I was just letting her know some useful information-”

“Stop!” Olive cried out before Aubry and Mystia could get into an argument. She sensed it building within her, and she just couldn’t handle it right now. “Can-can we please talk about something else?” She pleaded, her voice softening again as she reached for her water bottle standing tall on the desk.

“Certainly.” Aubry nodded, straightening her posture which she hadn’t even noticed was becoming tight and uneased. “Is there anything in particular that you would prefer we discuss at this moment in time? After all, you do have the outright authority.”

“Um, yeah.” Olive whispered as she sipped from her trusted water bottle which was now resting in her lap. She tugged the neck of the bottle away from her lips and screwed the lid back on tightly. “Wh-what are you guys again?”

Aubry was about to explain all over again, but Mystia had had enough of the logical side’s babbling and she wanted to listen to her own voice for a little bit. “We’re facets of your personality! Well, that’s on the most basic level as far as we know. We represent the different parts of you, like how Joyce is your emotion, I’m your creativity, the one over there with a stick up her skirt is logic.”

“Okay. . .Um. Are there any others?”

“Actually, yes. Only one that we know of though. She is Joyce’s sister and we don’t really talk about her that much.”

“Why?”

Joyce took over this time. “Because she represents your selfish side. I guess you could compare us like opposites; I’m more focused on others and those around you while she’s focused exclusively on herself, or yourself. I’m not sure how to refer to all of this as. It’s disorienting.”

“Oh. . .” Olive mumbled, her hand tightening on her water bottle. Knuckles started to turn white and that’s when Mystia steered them back onto course again.

“Anyways, I wouldn’t worry about her, Olive. Really. Now! Do you have any other questions?”

Olive shrinked away from Mystia’s outgoing energy, wondering how this thing could represent her creativity since she was so bright and colorful and happy. There was a disconnect there still. “Um. . .Are you all like independant or something, because uh-”

“Mystia.”

“-Mystia doesn’t match my view of creativity at all. I like dark stuff and things like that, not rainbows and happy-go-fun-time stuff. . .”

“You also repeatedly like to use the word  _ stuff  _ in conversation.” Aubry pointed out briefly.

Mystia frowned as she realized and processed what Olive had pointed out. They were like exact opposites. Was there a mistake? Was she supposed to be this dark brooding demon that would sit in a corner and occasionally spit out ideas? That sounded terrible.  _ No, the way I exist is not a mistake. _ She thought, gently poking her chin.  _ If I was meant to be dark and scary looking, I’d be that way, but I’m not.  _

“You’re right.” Mystia found herself speaking out, a whim of hurt laced in her tone. “I guess we don’t really match that well. But, I don’t think it’s a problem with me. Maybe it has to do something with everything that’s been happening recently. Everything’s just been a huge mess.”

“So you’re saying something is wrong with me then?” Olive muttered defensively. Joyce could practically feel Olive’s hackles rising, her mouth preparing an retorting statement to shoot towards the creative side.

“What? No! Well, maybe.” Mystia said quickly, realizing that everything that was falling out of her mouth probably wouldn’t help anyone. Gosh dangit. “Look! I’m just confused. I’m as worried as these other two are and I really am bothered by the fact that we don’t really match up that well. It’s putting me on edge.” Mystia confessed, her shoulders falling and her facade of happiness melting away. Vulnerable was one way to describe her. Easily aggravated, tired, faded and detached, just by a single look at her face.

The emotional side looked upwards at the woman who had practically raised her. To Olive, she had never seen Mystia as anyone else so she didn’t know what the girl was supposed to act like, but Joyce knew differently. It hurt seeing Mystia so beaten down, looking as tired as she did all of a sudden. Her smile had hid it for so long, but clearly she had also been feeling the pressure that was resting heavy on them all. The Queen of Creativity in the mindscape; the girl who could always make someone laugh with a recycled joke; the girl that was always smiling; she was terrified in her own right.

“You could have told us.” Joyce whispered to Mystia, her eyes softening on the creative side. “You already said it yourself that we’re basically in this together right? So it’s important to tell others how you’re feeling or there will be no progress.”

Olive’s eyes moved to Aubry who was still standing by the door. She hadn’t interrupted for a little while. Maybe it was what she stood for? She was purely logical and nothing else, at least, that’s how Olive understood it. Therefore, Aubry had little if any emotions at all compared to Joyce and Mystia. It was understandable why she wouldn’t want to participate in this part of the conversation.

Mystia wanted to say something, but she shut her mouth and nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll try to be a bit more open. . .”

“Good. Now, how about we focus on the problem now and work towards a solution.” Joyce smiled as she shifted her gaze back to Olive in the chair. She noted that barely anyone had moved since they began talking, other than herself who was scooting everywhere. She also noticed that Aubry was stepping forward a bit to speak.

“That’s a good idea, Joyce.” The logical side agreed before eyeing Olive. “We may have already asked you this earlier, but has there been anything that has been making you upset or worried?”

Olive grunted in response. “Plenty of things.” She huffed with a roll of her eyes. “The kids at school are idiots and don’t know how to shut up. Like, if they just shut their mouths, not only will you save yourself a trip from the principal’s office, you’ll keep the teachers from screaming and giving other students like me a migraine! It just doesn’t make sense!”

“That is something we both agree on.” Aubry commented before encouraging the girl to continue.

“I get hit in the face with sports balls every recess, nobody likes to play with me and if I do manage to wiggle my way into a group, I’m just ditched on the other side of the school grounds and then I end up late for lunch because nobody bothers to tell me! That’s why I’d just rather sit inside, but the teachers won’t let me because they can’t leave a student unsupervised. Like, I’m 12! I’m not carrying a bomb or a grenade. I just have a sketchbook, a pencil, a migraine and the desperate need for quiet.” Olive ranted off, her eyes watering again, but this time with anger.

Joyce moved a hand to rest on Olive’s shoulder as a form of reassurance before flashing her a kind and loving smile. It brought her temper back to a manageable level as she continued.

“I guess. . . I just feel like I don’t fit in anywhere. I feel like an outcast. Then there are the  _ popular  _ girls. Why are they popular if they act like complete brats and don’t have an inch of common sense? They can get anyone to spill their secrets and then they broadcast them everywhere to all the guys and girls throughout the grades. I hate it! Then I’m horrified of messing up. Like, if someone asks me a question and I get it wrong or it’s not what they were expecting, I’m afraid they’ll yell and tell me to go away or say that I’m an idiot. I don’t want to be an idiot. . .”

“That’s my job, to make sure that you are not an idiot. I can assure you that you are not an idiot.” Aubry spoke, attempting to be somewhat comforting.

“I’d say she’s really good at it too according to all the stuff you’ve been telling us.” Joyce whispered into Olive’s ear with a chuckle.

“I guess. I’m also so worried about junior high. In less than four months, I’m going to end up in a school filled with a bunch of more idiots from other schools! I-I don’t think I can handle it, even if I’m going to a charter school.”

Mystia tilted her head as she came and sat next to Joyce on the floor. “You know, maybe it won’t be so bad?”

“What? How?”

“Well, you have us now to talk to. I mean, we aren’t like your parents or kids in the neighborhood, but we are willing to help you feel better. Besides, imagine what you can do with all the knowledge you’ll get.”

Olive wiped her nose with her sleeve and softly glared at Mystia. “How can knowledge be useful when I’m not even graduated yet and have a job?”

“Are you kidding?” Mystia smiled, gently pressing her hand onto Olive’s wrist. “There’s so much you can do with knowledge, especially involving creativity. I’m always going to Aubry to ask her how things work whenever I’m drawing or writing something. It just makes more sense to put factual statements instead of making of bull off the top of your head and hoping people will buy it. Aubry would never stand for it as long as she exists. Like. . .Oh! Mermaids!”

“Mermaids are fantasy.” Olive mumbled, not really seeing Mystia’s point.

“Well, yes, but they’re based off of real world things and concepts. Like, the fish and human half of a mermaid. Having a tail is having an extension of the spine, right?”

“Y-yeah?”

“So, when you’re looking at a picture of a mermaid and their tail bends suddenly, how would it feel if that was your spine?”

“Gorish, but it would feel really painful and impractical.”

“Exactly! Your spine is really flexible, but it isn’t a joint like your knee, right Aubry?” Mystia asked, glancing quickly at the logical side who nodded in affirmation.

“So it’s like someone literally just broke your spine?”

“Yeah!” Mystia said, her smile growing, glad that Olive had understood what she was trying to communicate.

“Gross.” Olive mumbled, but they could all see the small smile on her lips as she took another drink from her water bottle. Admittedly, Olive felt a lot better now that she had those things off her chest. It didn’t feel like she was suffocating under a thousand pounds of sand and now she could actually breathe in some of the fresh air without having to answer a bajillion questions about how she was even under the sand in the first place. “So, what do you like to write about, Mystia?”

The creative side looked up in surprise. She was confused as to why Olive was asking her a question of all people, but she felt honored and gladly answered. “Anything that really makes me happy. Sometimes it’s about Joyce and Aubry and myself, sometimes it’s about nature, sometimes it’s fanfiction for shows and stuff like how things should have ended and all that. I like to write about my own characters and put them into ridiculous situations just for the heck of it. I also love fluff, but I don’t like any of that. . . _ other  _ stuff. It really makes me uncomfortable.”

“Same.” Joyce agreed with a goofish smile. She then peered over her shoulder back at Aubry and motioned for her to move closer and talk with them.

The logical side hesitantly obliged, feeling out of place. She sat awkwardly on the ground, Aubry’s legs folded under her.

“Huh, so I guess I’m not crazy?” Olive wondered. “Like, I like the idea of dates and stuff, but I hate feeling uncomfortable like that. I’d rather just be really good friends and then I don’t have to worry so much about feeling awkward.”

“Yes. It’s much better if you can get to know someone first before you even really consider asking them about relationships, but I wouldn’t worry about it right now. You’re young. You have a few years.” Mystia laughed, squeezing Olive’s wrist.

_ Thump, thump, thump! _

Footsteps could be heard thumping up the stairs just on the other side of the wall and Olive’s heart caught in her throat. Was that her sister, her mom, her dad, or all three? She had no idea, and it was stressing her out. Olive then heard the sound of a door close and she sighed with relief. It had only been her sister coming upstairs to her room.

“You guys should probably get going soon.” Olive advised quietly. “I don’t know if my family can see you, but I’m not really sure I’m in the mood to find out.”

“Understandable.” Aubry nodded, huffing slightly when she realized that she would have to awkwardly get back up off the floor.

Joyce was already on her feet and pulling Olive into a tight embrace. “We’ll be back though, alright? It’s still good to talk and get those feelings out before they explode.” She mumbled into Olive’s ear before pulling away.

“And of course, I have to deliver my ideas to you now more directly! I bet we can make the greatest masterpieces this world has ever seen!” Mystia smiled while posing dramatically, the back of her hand pressed to her forehead.

“Probably an overstatement, but okay.” Olive laughed quietly as she also stood to her feet.

Mystia gasped as she pressed a hand to her chest. She was clearly acting, but it was funny nonetheless. “Never question one’s artwork!”

“That is an inaccurate accusation and statement. She did not question and even if she did, she has the right to do so.” Aubry grumbled as she finally was able to pull herself up with the help of the repurposed DIY dorm bed ladder.

“Did you just roast me?” The creative side broke character, genuinely shocked that Aubry had an ounce of humor in her overly serious being.

“No more banter.” Aubry rushed to change the subject as she glanced back at Joyce who had an expression of concern.

“How do we get back?” She wondered.

“I don’t believe it will be as difficult as getting here.” Aubry thought aloud, tapping her chin. “Let’s all focus on the mindscape. If we combine our efforts, then perhaps it won’t be so tiresome for Mystia like how she got us here to begin with.”

“Cool. I’m ready for a nap though.” Mystia sighed as she stretched. She glanced at Olive once more with a smile before closing her eyes and focusing on their home.

The other two sides followed suit, and when they opened their eyes they were standing back in the main hall of the mansion. The windows had repaired themselves now, but a certain someone had been added to the stained glass family portrait. A young brunette with glasses and dark clothing was seated beneath Joyce, Aubry, and Mystia.

There was a tender smile on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little less angsty for those that need a break. :D


End file.
